THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


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3 

Chief  Wash-Hun-Gah. 


AD-EM-NEL-LA 


AN  INDIAN  LEGENDARY 
LOVE-STORY  IN  VERSE, 

AND  OTHER  POEMS. 


BY 


ETHAN  ALLEN  HURST. 


1915 


Copyrighted,  1915,  by  E.  A.  Hurst. 


All  rights  reserved. 


3 


DEDICATION. 

To  those  Lovers  around  the  globe,  and  only  those, 
who  have  risen  high  enough  in  the  scale  of  life  to  love 
with  that  pure  and  holy  love,  unmixed  and  uncontami- 
nated  with  and  free  from  all  libidinous  thought  and 
selfish  feeling,  and  are  therefore  True  Lovers,  this 
little  book  is  respectfully  inscribed. 

THE  AUTHOR. 


CREDENDA. 

"Now  go,  write  it  before  them  in  a  table,  and  note 
it  in  a  book,  that  it  may  be  for  the  time  to  come,  for 
ever  and  ever." — Isaiah  xxx.  8. 


"For  a  woman  will  flirt  with  a  man  and  lead  him 
on,  and  on,  and  he  will  go  on,  till,  at  last,  there  is  no 
hope  for  him." — Socrates. 


Orion   is   the  author's   guiding  constellation;   his 
motto,  "/  never  let  up."     Selah. 


""I  love  him  who  worketh  and  inventeth  to  build  a 
house  for  the  Superman." — Nietzsche. 


"The  poetry  of  any  epoch  should  be  the  best  ex 
pression  of  the  best  thought  of  the  best  thinkers  of 
that  epoch." — Allenhurst. 


PREFACE. 

It  is  said  that  the  vitality  of  a  nation  is  measured 
by  the  music  of  its  poets,  and  that  when  the  poetry  of 
a  nation  becomes  new  and  fertile,  or  waning  and  de 
cadent,  that  age  in  that  nation  becomes  a  generation 
of  hope,  or  a  generation  of  despair.     That  when  the 
people  of  a  nation  seek  rhythm  and  cadence  in  litera- 
ture,  through  its  poets  and  musicians,  that  nation  tends 
**     toward  a  wider  life,  takes  a  yearning  for  an  inconceiva- 
j£     ble  future,  and  becomes  vigorous  and  prolific  of  great 
.^     events. 

Individuals  are  like  nations,  because  a  nation  is 

naught  but  a  multiplicity  of  individuals ;  and  nations 

get  their  moral  stamina  and  religious  strength,  or  their 

«y      vacillating  weakness  and  pusillanimity,  from  the  very 

in      breasts  of  the  common  citizenry. 

>  When  the  citizen  goes  singing  to  his  work  (whether 

£     to  office,  shop  or  field),  with  his  soul  attuned1  to  the 

melodies  of  solicitous  Nature's  gamut  (as  voiced  in  the 

twittering  song  of  the  feathered  harbinger  of  peace, 

,      the  gentld  laughing  water,  the  perfumed  flowers  and 

g      odoriforous  ozone  breezes),  and  his  breast  heaving 

s£      with  the  breath  of  the  rhythmic  meter  of  the  Universe, 

§      that  man  will  be  true  to  his  employer,  his  servant,  his 

family,  his  beast,  his  country,  and  himself. 

The  contempt  of  the  public  taste  for  the  art  of 
versification  has  been  deeply  shaken,  and  there  is  a  re- 
M!  vival  of  poetry  which  is  very  noticeable  now  in  Europe, 
and  more  or  less  all  over  the  world,  among  the  higher 
classes.  France,  especially,  has  a  new  generation  of 
noets  who  are  setting  the  pace  for  the  world ;  likewise 
Italy.  The  leading  poetry  journals  of  the  advanced 

7 

449892 


PREFACE. 

literary  centers  of  the  United  States  (Boston,  New 
York,  etc.)  are  dominated  with  such  writers  as  Mari- 
netti,  Duhamel,  Pryds,  and  such  unpronounceable  for 
eign  names ;  and  the  best  talent  of  our  own  country  is 
being  brought  forward  to  compete  with  them  in  their 
denouement  of  the  higher  and  deeper  feelings  that  play 
in  the  bosom  of /mankind  under  the  new  forms  of  life 
that  we  are  living  in  these  fast  days. 

Poetry  must  live  and  will  live,  because  it  is  neces 
sary  as  an  interpretation  and  sustenance  of  the  finer 
inner  qualities  and  the  character  of  the  people  who 
are  building  the  nations  and  solving  the  problems  that 
lie  out  before  us.  Not  only  do  the  finer  qualities  of  a 
nation  and  its  perpetuity  rest  on  the  inherent  relig 
ious  and  poetic  feelings  of  its  people,  but  its  very  lan 
guage  looks  to  that  source  for  its  development  and 
perpetuation. 

It  has  been  remarked  facetiously,  but  is  a  fact  nev 
ertheless,  that,  Poetry  being  the  mother  of  Language, 
the  child  approaches  the  difficult  task  of  acquiring  its 
mother  tongue  through  poetic  channels — by  repeating 
a  well-known,  universal  poem ;  and  that  without  this 
medium,  the  prattle  of  the  infant,  struggling  with  its 
first  words,  would  be  as  the  growl  of  a  wolf  or  the 
scream  of  a  hyena.  But  how  different  when  the  in 
fant  sings  its  first  lullaby  song,  so  inspiring  to  the 
heart,  and  such  sweet  music  to  the  ear  of  the  fond 
parent — that  first  minstrel  lay  in  that  universal  baby- 
language  :  "Da-da,"  "Da-da,"  "Da-dy" ! 

Poetry  has  been  unpopular  among  the  general  read 
ing  public ;  and  the  reason  for  this  lies  in  the  fact 
that  the  ordinary  reader  has  never  taken  time  to  famil 
iarize  himself  with  the  rules  that  govern  the  writing 
and  reading  of  verse  composition.  A  great  many  per 
sons  who  attempt  to  write  poetry  observe  no  rules, 
and  seek  for  no  expression  except  a  jingle  of  words 
which  sound  somewhat  alike,  and  these  words  are 

8 


PREFACE. 

placed  at  the  end  of  short  or  long  sentences  or  phrases, 
without  any  thought  or,  perhaps,  knowledge  whatever 
of  the  pause,  accent,  cadence,  or  rhythm;  and  when 
the  reader  undertakes  to  get  something  out  of  it,  he 
finds  the  conglomerate  mass  has  no  beauty,  if  indeed 
any  sense  for  him,  and  gives  it  up  as  a  hopeless  and 
needless  undertaking;  and,  in  doing  so,  deepens  his 
already  acquired  or  existing  antipathy  for  all  poetry 
in  general. 

Nevertheless,  Poetry  is  a  sister  of  Music,  and  they 
go  hand  in  hand.  If  you  should  select  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  songs  written  by  the  dearly  beloved  blind 
Fanny  Crosby  (now  lately  deceased),  and  sung  by  the 
immortal  Sankey,  and  undertake  to  sing  it  and  get 
music  out  of  it,  without  ever  having  heard  the  song, 
and  without  any  knowledge  of  musical  notation  or  of 
the  rules  governing  the  writing  and  setting  of  music, 
or  the  characters  we  call  "notes,"  you  would  be  driven 
to  give  up  the  undertaking  in  utter  disgust.  What 
would  we  think  on  hearing  the  good  old  "Songs  of 
Zion"  mumbled  over,  if  we  had  never  heard  anyone 
sing  them  who  could  read  music,  or  sing  it?  Or  what 
would  they  be  if  they  had  been  written  without  any 
kind  of  meter? 

For  the  benefit  of  those  persons  who  do  not  enjoy 
reading  poetry,  and  who  may  say  therefore  that  they 
do  not  like  poetry,  the  author  begs  indulgence  to  give 
a  few  hints  here ;  for  he  is  sure  that  there  is  no  normal 
human  being  on  the  face  of  the  globe  who  does  not, 
down  deep  in  his  inmost  soul,  have  an  inherent  love 
for  that  rhythm  and  beauty  to  be  found  in  true  poetry 
and  music  when  ii  is  properly  written  and  rendered. 

The  two  main  requisites  of  poetry  are  known  as 
"accent"  and  "pause,"  both  of  which  are  almost  un 
known  or  unobserved  by  the  ordinary  reader;  and 
these,  of  themselves,  possess  so  much  musical  power 
that  with  them  alone  the  drummer-boy  may  inspire 

9 


PREFACE. 

the  army  with  so  much  feeling  of  patriotism  and 
bravery  that  it  will  march  with  alacrity  and  cheerful 
ness  into  the  battle's  mouth,  where  almost  certain 
death  awaits  its  soldiers.  The  sharp  notes  of  the  fife, 
the  rattle  and  roar  of  the  battle,  its  musketry  and  can 
non,  the  neighs  of  the  maddened  horses  and  the  shrieks 
of  the  dying  men  are  caught,  modified,  and  woven  into 
a  cadence  of  rhythmic  music  by  the  measured  "fudr-r- 
r-r-rup!  fudr-r-r-r-rw/>/  fudr-r-r-r-rup,  rup,  rup!"  of 
the  drum  ;  and  the  same  note,  repeated  at  proper  inter 
vals,  and  with  the  proper  stress  or  accent,  is  the  vital 
secret  of  it  all. 

As  so  much,  therefore,  depends  on  the  observ 
ance  of  these  features,  the  author  begs  the  indulgence 
of  the  reader,  and  his  pardon  for  any  seeming  pedanti- 
cism,  to  give  a  brief  outline  of  the  rules  governing  the 
poetry  contained  in,  this  volume,  which  may  be  mas 
tered  in  passing  without  any  study  whatever;  and  the 
observance  of  which  will  so  greatly  add  to  the  reader's 
appreciation  of  the  effort  which  the  writer  has  made 
to  please,  entertain,  and  delight  him  in  the  following 
pages. 

The  story  of  AD-EM  -N  EL-LA  is  written  in  a  style  of 
poetry  called  "Heroic  Measure,"  or  Iambic  Pentame 
ter,  which  grammarians  in  their  prosodies  classify 
under  this  formula:  (u  a  x  5),  which  means  that  each 
line  is  made  up  of  five  feet  of  two  syllables  each,  the 
first  syllable  of  each  foot  unaccented  and  the  second 
accented  ;  or,  in  othen  words,  it  is  an  unaccented  and 
an  accented  syllable  multiplied  by  five,  or  repeated  five 
times  in  each  line. 

These  lines,  therefore,  should  be  read  as  if  they 
were  written  in  this  form  : 


or 


IO 


PREFACE. 

The  reader  should  imagine  himself  holding  a  drum 
stick  in  his  hand,  while  reading,  with  which  he  strikes 
a  bass-drum  a  sharp  blow  every  time  he  pronounces 
an  accented  syllable ;  then  he  will  be  reading  the  verse 
somewhat  like  this : 


Re-fore 
u  a 

a  thoughi 
u      a 

of  worlds    had  eer 
u      a           u      a 

ob-tained, 
u      a 

Or  earth 
u  a 

or  fir  - 
u    a 

ma-ment 
u     a 

was  made 
u       a 

or  named. 
u       a 

This  rule  will  govern  the  reader  throughout  the 
entire  story,  as  well  as  any  poetry  of  this  measure 
wherever  found,  if  correctly  written. 

In  writing  this  kind  of  poetry  (or  any  other  kind), 
it  is  a  mistake  to  use  a  word  anywhere,  in  any  line, 
whose  accent,  in  its  proper  and  natural  pronunciation, 
does  not  correspond  with  this  rule.  And  when  such 
words  are  so  written,  it  forces  the  reader  to  give  an 
unnatural  accent  to  the  word,  or,  if  he  pronounce  it 
correctly,  it  mars  the  beauty  of  the  rhythm  and  spoils 
the  poetry.  It  becomes  like  the  music  of  the  battle 
would  become  were  the  drummer  to  suddenly  and 
unexpectedly  begin  striking  the  drum  at  random.  The 
whole  company  would  be  thrown  into  instant  confusion 
and  made,  instead  of  a  united  and  determined  phalanx 
moving  on  to  sure  victory,  a  disorganized  multiplicity 
of  straggling  individual  soldiers  in  broken  ranks  and, 
in  all  probability,  fleeing  from  the  battlefield  before  an 
easily  victorious  enemy. 

It  might  be  well  to  say  the  "pause"  should  occur 
at  the  end  of  each  line,  notwithstanding  the  grammat 
ical  construction  of  the  sentence ;  and  there  should  be 
a  short,  light  pause  near  the  middle  of  each  line,  in 
very-long-line  poetry.  This  (caesural)  pause  will  sug 
gest  itself  without  giving  any  rule  here. 

u 


PREFACE. 


These  observations  will  apply  to  all  the  poems  in 
the  book  (with  a  few  exceptions)  ;  that  is,  the  poems 
are  nearly  all  written  in  this  meter,  but  with  different 
multipliers. 

It  will  be  noticed  that  the  first  part  of  the  love- 
story  is  written  in  couplets,  or  stanzas  of  two  lines, 
each  riming  with  the  other;  and  the  remainder  of 
the  story  in  quatrains,  or  four  lines,  with  each  two 
alternates  riming. 

Of  the  few  poems  written  in  different  meters  we 
might  mention  :  "They  're  After  Us,"  which  is  mixed 
verse  having  the  Iambic  (u  a)  combined  with  the  An- 
apest,  which  is  (u  u  a)  ;  so  that  this  poem  appears 
thus: 


The  sis- 
u     a 

ters  whom  you 
u        u         a 

and  I  woo, 
u    u    a 

Fame  and  Fort- 
u       u       a 

une, 
u 

Are  flirt- 
u      a 

ing  with  us 
u       u      a 

ev-ery  day 
u    u      a 

of  our  lives. 
u    u      a 

The  poem  "Andromeda's  Sacrifice"  is  made  up  of 
the  Trochee  (a  u),  the  Pyrrhic  (u  u),  and  the  Dactyl 
(a  u  u)  ;  thus: 


u    u 

In  the 


a      u 

long  long  years 


u  u 
a-go, 


u       u 
where  the  tall 


a      u 
pal- 


a     u 

m^-toes 


grow, 
u 

Grew  a 
a    u 


maid-en 
a      u 


fair-er 
a    u 


than  the 
a      u 


po-et's  dream, 
a    u         u 


The  "Old  Plantation"  is  written  in  the  same  varie 
ties  of  meter  as  the  above,  but  differently  combined : 


There  's  a  pa- 
u         u   a 

thos  in 
u    u 

the  sol- 
u     a 

emn  con- 
u      u 

tem-pla- 
u      a 

tion 
u 

Of  the  old 
u    u     a 

times  and 
u        u 

old  friends 
u        a 

we  used 
u      u 

to  know, 
u      u 

12 

PREFACE. 

In  the  short  poems  the  author  has  sought  to  make 
as  much  variety  as  practicable  in  a  small  number  of 
examples;  as  well  the  number  of  lines  in  a  stanza,  as 
the  feet  in  a  line,  and  the  number  of  riming  lines  in 
each  stanza.  And  though  there  are  but  few  poems, 
they  cover  a  fairly  wide  scope  in  variety  of  versifi 
cation.  It  will  be  noticed  that  they  extend  from  two 
to  ten  lines,  that  some  are  made  to  rime  in  three  or 
four  lines,  and  some  to  carry  two  sets  of  rimes  in  each 
stanza. 

For  example :  the  decastich  "Mortality"  consists  of 
ten  lines  each' stanza,  each  of  10,  4,  10,  10,  8,  8,  4,  8. 
8,  6  syllables;  and  these  are  tied  in  two  couplets:  i,  j 
and  6,  9 ;  and  three  triads:  2,  3,  5  and  7,  8,  10. 

Some  of  those  carrying  double  rime  are :  "Don't 
Cher  Know,"  "The  Spirit  of  Youth,"  etc. 

To  read  verse  rhythmically  one  must  observe  the 
measure,  time,  stress,  pause,  and  nm^'but  all  these 
are  nothing  more  than  helps  to  aid  the  reader  in  the 
full  understanding  and  appreciation  of  the  sense  of 
the  subject  matter  of  the  poem,  and  to  enable  him  to 
convey  that  sense,  easily  and  pleasantly,  to  the  hearer 


All  of  these  poems  have  been  written  by  the  author 
within  the  last  two  years,  and  are  entirely  original. 
None  have  been  published  (until  the  time  of  going  to 
press  in  the  publication  of  this  book),  except  a  few  of 
the  shorter  ones,  which  were  published  in  the  local 
papers  by  especial  permission  of  the  author,  and  over 
his  nom  de  plume:  Allenhurst. 


PREFACE. 

In  presenting  this  little  book  to  the  public  the 
author  recognizes  the  trend  of  this  commercial  age  to 
ward  that  hurry  and  bustle  that  would  require  every 
thing  of  a  literary  nature  to  be  terse  and  concrete. 
He  has  therefore  abstained  from  circumlocutory  and 
periphrastic  statements,  the  use  of  ornamental  adject 
ives  and  the  painted  rime,  and  has  told  the  story 
with  the  fewest  words  that  could  be  made  to  convey  a 
clear  idea  of  the  tale  he  meant  to  portray. 

He  has  likewise  abstained  from  the  use  of  slang 
words,  catchy  phrases,  and  hackneyed  sayings,  for  the 
reason  that  they  are  short-lived,  and  their  meanings 
will  be  unknown  to  the  general  reader  of  the  next 
generation. 

Those  persons  who  feel  themselves  entitled  to  dis 
tinction  on  account  of  their  wealth  or  learning,  and 
who  pride  themselves  on  being  able  to  find  almost  con 
stant  use  for  such  phrases,  for  instance,  as:  "It  is  so 
different,"  or  "It  is  so  strenuous,"  may  feel  that  the 
absence  of  such  expressions  in  this  composition  very 
much  impairs  the  strength  and  tone  that  it  would  oth 
erwise  have ;  but  the  author  can  remember  when  many 
a  locution  of  that  kind  was  the  sine  qua  non  of  polite 
society  (or  that  part  of  society  that  thought  itself 
polite)  in  certain  localities,  and  that  only  a  few  years 
ago,  which  is  now  entirely  obsolete  and  forgotten. 

It  was  only  a  few  years  ago  that  this  class  of  apt- 
expressionists  was  using,  with  great  vigor  and  pride, 
in  some  parts  of  our  country,  the  very  popular  and 
rhetorical  provincialism,  "Shoo,  fly !  don't  bother  me" ; 
and  when  it  meant  everything  "so  different,  and  so 
strenuous"! 


PREFACE. 

The  author,  in  coming  before  the  great  but  indif 
ferent  and  sometimes  cold  public,  in  this,  his  infant 
literary  effusion,  recognizes  the  fact  that  the  writers 
of  the  past  whose  works  have  survived  to  the  present 
day  wrote  in  advance  of  their  day  and  generation,  and 
their  works  were  not  recognized  and  received  by  their 
contemporaries;  he  flatters  himself,  therefore,  that  if 
the  poetry  he  is  writing  to-day  should  not  cater  to  the 
taste  of  the  present-day  reader,  it  may  meet  the  ap 
proval  of  the  reading  public,  and  gratify  the  critique 
of  the  connoisseur  who  lives  in  the  next  generation,  or 
the  next  century.  And  if  his  work  is  not  received  by 
this  generation,  he  will  console  himself  in  the  belief 
that  literary  taste  is  not  sufficiently  developed  at  the 
present  day — that  he  is  writing  in  advance  of  his  age, 
and  that  his  writing  will  "come  to  its  own"  when  the 
race  shall  have  been  advanced  to  the  grade  of  suscepti 
bility  where  it  can  receive  and  enjoy  the  beauty  of  his 
work.  And,  if  he  is  mistaken  in  his  premises,  he  flat 
ters  himself  with  the  further  consolation  that  he  will 
not  live  to  know  he  was  mistaken.  Nor  will  his 
detractors.  (An  Englishman  might  be  asked  to  smile 
here.) 

And  now,  once  more  begging  the  indulgence  of  the 
gentle  reader,  and  his  pardon  fof  mistakes  and  short 
comings,  and  hoping  that  he  may  be  entertained  and 


1.5 


PREFACE. 

profited  by  a  close  and  prayerful  perusal  of  the  little 
book,  the  author  comes  to  the  last  and  best  part  of  his 
preface : 

He  acknowledges  his  obligations  to  his  wife  (Mrs. 
Ollie  Carr  Hurst)  for  valuable  help,  and  for  the  indul 
gence  of  him  and  his  foibles  while  preparing  the  man 
uscript  for  the  work ;  and  he  desires  to  substitute*  for 
the  hackneyed  sentence,  "Oh  that  mine  enemy  might 
write  a  book !"  this  better  one :  Oh,  what  a  good  wife 
must  the  husband  have  who  writes  a  book!  for  she  it 
is  who  bears  the  burden  and  the  worry  of  it  all. 

THE  AUTHOR. 

Hereford,  Texas,  May,  1915. 
E.  A.  HURST. 


16 


CONTENTS. 
AD-EM  - 


Editor's  Scholium  .....................  20 

I.  —  The  Creation  .  .  .  •  .....................  33 

II.  —All  Worlds  Put  in  Motion  ..............  38 

III.  —Populating  the  Worlds  .................  39 

IV.  —  Carrying  Out  the  Great  Law  ............  40 

V.  —The  Fated  Man  and  Woman  Meet  .......  40 

VI.  —  We  Were  Strangers,  She  a  Slave  ........  42 

VII.  —The  Follies  of  Lovers  ..................  44 

VIII.  —  The  Awfulness  of  Jealousy  ..............  45 

IX.  —The  Severe  Test  ......................  -46 

X.  —Woman's  Lure  .......................  -48 

XI.  —A  Great  Opportunity  ...................  50 

XII.  -The  Wiles  of  the  Fair  ..................  51 

XIII.  —  Jealousy  a  True  Test  of  Love  ............  53 

XIV.  —  Condonement's  Sacrifice  .................  55 

XV.  —Envy's  Mission  ........................  56 

XVI.  —Panegyrics—  The  Lover's  Wail  ...........  58 

XVII.  —  The  Lovers  Transported  to  Heaven  .......  60 

XVIII.—  The  Heavenly  Marriage  ................  63 

XIX.  —Her  European  Trip  .....................  64 

XX.  —Turmoils  of  This  Wicked  World-  ........  67 

XXI.  —Addenda    .............................  71 

End  of  Story. 


CONTENTS.—  Cont. 
SHORT  POEMS. 

A  "Cabby's"  Tribute IDI 

Andromeda's  Sacrifice  .  . .  • 130 

Children's  Fairy  Tale 103 

Compensatory    119 

Don't  Cher  Know • 114 

Disciples  of  Somnus •  95 

Echo 142 

Friendship    135 

Flower  Seeds 90 

Flying  Thoughts 137 

Hazardlets    95 

I  Am  So  Glad 115 

Joe  's  Got  the  Biggest  Aut no 

Jake  Brought  in  the  News 107 

La  Mentira 76 

Love's  Requital  128 

Love's  Birthday 136 

My  Mother's  Initial  Prayer 74 

My  Vision   91 

Modest  Worth 96 

(Over.} 


18 


CONTENTS.— Cant. 

My  Paraphrase  124 

Mortality's  Response   102 

Man  the  Moth 127 

My  Creed 100 

My  Life  Symphony 109 

Mortality ;  or,  The  Star  of  Bethlehem 121 

Notes   143 

Old  Huerta  's  Got  to  Go 88 

Our  Church  Programme 1 16 

Our  Tryst   134 

Poor  Leda  Goodbin 79 

Shelleyan  Cronyns   1 18 

Short-Changed    133 

Some  Consolation 99 

The  Maid's  Lament 138 

The  Great  Peace  Palace 86 

The  Press   97 

The  Secret 106 

The  Spirit  of  Youth 112 

Tender  Woman's  Power 118 

The  Lover's  Recompense 120 

The  Last  Chance  (Unspeakable) 126 

They  're  After  Us 123 

The  Old  Plantation 140 

We  Don't  Speak 117 

End  of  Short  Poems. 


EDITOR'S  SCHOLIUM. 
Legenda. 

It  is  said  that  when  the  Oklahoma  country  was 
thrown  open  to  settlement  by  the  white  man,  the  author 
was  a  young  lawyer  living  and  practicing  his  profession 
in  or  near  the  border  of  that  part  of  the  country  owned 
by  the  Kaw  Indian  tribe.  That  the  young  lawyer  was 
retained,  at  the  time,  as  attorney  for  that  Nation,  by 
Wash-hun-gah,  its  Chief,  in  all  the  litigation  and  nego 
tiations  relative  to  the  ceding  of  the  rich  Indian  lands 
to  the  United  States  Government,  the  provisions  for 
retention  of  tribal  rights,  and  all  the  matters  pertain 
ing  to  the  settlement  of  the  many  perplexing  questions 
growing  out  of  the  great  change  then  taking  place. 

The  young  attorney  was  a  polished  young  man  of 
good  address,  who  came  from  one  of  the  wealthy  and 
influential  families  of  an  Eastern  State,  where  he  had 
received  a  polished  education  and  drunk  deeply  from 
the  fountains  of  legal  lore.  He  had  made  a  study  of 
the  Choctaw  language,  which  was  the  written  language 
of  the  old  Chief.  He  was  a  persistent  and  earnest 
student  of  languages  and  peoples,  of  anthropology  and 
ethnology;  had  given  much  time  to  the  study  of 
the  great  and  all-absorbing  "Indian  Problem,"  and  felt 
the  inevitable  certainty  of  the  speedy  end  of  all  tribal 
rights,  the  eventual  governmental  citizenship  of  all  In 
dian  tribes,  and  their  final  merger  into  the  great  white 
dominant  Anglo-Saxon  race.  He  was  in  accord  with 
the  political  party  then  in  power,  and  stood  high  in  the 
party  councils,  and  with  the  Administration  at  Wash 
ington.  In  fact,  he  was  in  every  way  equipped  to  rep 
resent  the  interests  of  the  great  and  rich  tribe  at  whose 
head  had  stood  the  old  Chief  Wash-hun-gah,  as  the 
oracle  and  sole  ruler,  for  almost  three-quarters  of  a 
century. 

20 


EDITOR'S  SCHOLIUM.— Cont. 

The  old  Chief  was  full  of  years,  ripe  with  expe 
rience,  and  his  mind  enriched  with  a  great  fund  of 
knowledge,  gained  from  a  long  life  of  persistent  study 
and  careful  thought.  He  recognized  in  the  young 
man  the  very  qualities  that  he  needed  and  was  willing 
to  rely  upon  in  the  closing  out  of  his  long  and  honora 
ble  reign  and  chief  ship ;  and  he  accordingly  cultivated 
the  young  man's  friendship  and  companionship,  and 
they  were  much  together,  becoming  almost  like  father 
and  son  in  their  close  double-relationship — that  of  at 
torney  and  client  as  well  as  of  oracle  and  student ;  for, 
while  the  young  man  was  assisting  the  old  one  in  un 
raveling  the  modern  questions  that  had  recently  grown 
up,  and  helping  to  apply  the  law  to  the  various  hypoth 
eses  and  pressing  demands,  he  was  sitting  "at  the  feet 
of  Gamaliel" — at  the  elbow  of  the  old  man,  and  drink 
ing  rich  drafts  from  the  cup  of  his  long  experience 
and  study. 

Wash-hun-gah  could  read,  in  the  signs  of  the  times, 
that  in  all  probability  his  tribe  would  never  elect  a  suc 
cessor,  and  that  he  would  be  the  last  Kaw  Chief — that 
the  priestly  robes  of  his  sacred  office,  which  had  been 
handed  down  through  the  centuries  since  the  begin 
ning  of  time  (through  a  direct  line  from  Kansas,  the 
great  first  Chief,  who  was  appointed  by  CHITOKAKA. 
the  Great  First  Spirit),  would  become  functus  officio, 
and  the  chiefship  would  end  with  his  death. 

His  prophetic  eye  foresaw  the  coming  condition  of 
his  tribe,  like  all  the  tribes  in  the  great  rich  Indian 
country.  The  allotment  of  their  lands  that  had  been 
held  in  common  as  Elysian  fields  for  fishing,  hunting, 
grazing  and  fattening  grounds,  where  their  thousands 


21 


EDITOR'S  SCHOLIUM.— Cont. 

of  cattle  and  horses  grazed  peacefully  throughout  the 
entire  year,  without  feed  or  attention,  and  grew  and 
fattened ;  their  great  rolling  flat-iwoods  of  tall  hickory 
and  pecan  trees,  teeming  with  the  fleet-footed  antelope, 
the  velvet-horned  deer,  the  nimble  squirrel,  the  fleet- 
winged  prairie  chicken,  the  "tribal  bob-white,"  the 
wild  honey-bee  with  her  rich,  honey-laden  trees  of 
tribal,  community  honey,  free  to  all  for  the  taking; 
with  its  streams  of  limpid  waters,  where  the  bass, 
perch,  and  "red-hoss"  delighted  to  disport  and  scam 
per  with  the  angler's  hook;  soon  to  be  cut  up  into 
farms,  and  people  by  an  antagonistic  race,  whose  worst 
element  had  been  always  an  avowed  enemy  of  the  In 
dian,  and  a  grafter  for  his  rich  heritage  and  posses 
sions.  He  saw  Government  school-houses  going  up, 
and  the  Government  ingathering  of  the  children  of  his 
people — taken  from  their  native  tepee-homes,  and  from 
the  care  of  fond  parents,  and  carried  away,  by  armed 
force  in  many  instances,  to  be  "stuffed  with  the  white 
man's  ideas,"  and  to  learn  the  language  and  habits  and 
wear  the  garb  of  a  conquering  and  dominating  race, 
against  which  that  underlying,  deadly  hate,  though 
smouldering  and  covered,  was  as  deep  and  abiding  as 
in  the  scalping  days  of  the  fathers — that  race  whose 
encroachments  had  begun  at  the  landing  of  the  "Pil 
grims"  on  the  Atlantic  coast,  and  followed  westward 
until  now  iti  was  stripping  them  of  the  last  vestige  of 
their  lands  and  taking  their  rights  of  property,  their 
rights  of  tribalship,  their  rights  of  free  and  self-gov 
ernment,  their  rights  to  the  custody  and  education  of 
their  children,  their  rights  to  their  very  language  itself 
(for  a  law  had  just  been  promulgated  prohibiting  the 
teaching  of  his  beautiful  guttural  language  within  his 
own  hallowed  territory). 

The  old  Chief  had  lived  to  see  the  day  come  when 
the  white  man,  not  content  with  taking  all  these,  had 
adopted  a  policy  of  "feeding  the  Indian  from  paper 

22 


EDITOR'S  SCHOLIUM.—  Cont. 

sacks."  A  corrupt  Indian  Agent  had  been  appointed, 
who  inaugurated  a  system,  in  his  "great  solicitude  for 
the  Indian's  protection,"  of  requiring  every  business 
man  who  did  business  in  the  Indian  country,  or  even 
remained  there,  to  pay  the  Agent  a  sum  of  money  for 
a  permit.  These  permits  were  not  mere  licenses  to 
trade  with  and  "cheat  the  Indian,"  but  permits  to  com 
mit  a  wholesale  robbery  of  all  the  Indian  had  or  might 
ever  hope  to  have.  Merchants  who  had  little  five-hun- 
dred-dollar  stocks  of  goods  paid  this  Agent  as  much 
as  five  thousand  dollars  for  permits,  and  owners  of 
larger  stocks  paid  proportionate  amounts.  No  busi 
ness  man  could  deal  honestly  with  the  Indian,  because 
he  must  have  his  money  back,  and  he  got  it  back  by 
making  large  accounts  against  the  Indian  families  for 
goods  that  the  families  never  saw — that  the  merchant 
never  even  carried  in  stock  or  had  to  sell ;  accounts 
against  Indians  who  never  had  bought  a  commodity 
from  him  in  their  lives,  and  whom  he  never  had  seen 
or  heard  of,  except  as  he  saw  their  names  upon  the 
payment-rolls.  These  accounts  were  taken  to  the 
Agency  on  payment  week,  and  the  poor  Indian  credit 
or's  interest  money,  due  and  payable  from  the  debtor 
Government  (and  not  a  charity  fund,  as  some  pretend 
to  believe),  was  pro-rated  among  the  makers  of  the 
accounts  (for  the  accounts  were  always  much  greater 
than  the  payment).  The  Indian  never  saw  a  cent  of 
his  money,  nor  even  touched  the  payment  check,  ex 
cept  to  sign  his  name  or  make  his  mark  on  the  back  of 
it,  while  it  was  being  held  tightly  in  the  grip  of  the 
"Merchants  and  Traders'  Union's"  agent  in  the  wicket 
alongside  of  which  the  drove  of  lined-up,  beast-brute 
Indians  were  marched  to  the  music  of  "Modern  Com 
mercialism  and  Greed  Exploitation"  in  the  name  of 
the  United  States  Government  and  of  justice  to  "Lo, 
the  poor  Indian" ! 

23 


EDITOR'S  SCHOLIUM.— Cont. 

He  had  seen  the  last  vestige  of  Indian  freedom  and 
liberty,  customs  and  ways  being  taken  away,  the 
cramped  surroundings  of  citizenship  and  severalty- 
ownership  being  forced  upon  his  people,  and  States 
being  carved  out  of  his  own  happy  hunting-grounds, 
sylvan  forests,  and  wild-flower-bedecked  prairies,  to 
be  organized  and  governed  by  the  white  man.  The 
day  had  come"  to  his  people  when,  instead  of  "arising 
to  kill  and  eat  of  the  fat  of  the  land  and  the  firstlings 
of  his  flocks,"  these  flocks  must  be  sold  to  the  licensed 
dealer  and  bought  back  in  "paper-sack"  dribs  (not 
only  as  to  groceries  and  meats,  but  as  to  every  article 
of  clothing  and  every  kind  of  necessary  supply)  ;  the 
price,  both  "going  and  coming,"  to  be  fixed  by  the 
dealer.  He  had  seen  his  own  dear  country — his  share 
with  the  other  great  tribes  in  the  ancestral  territory  of 
all  North  America — the  richest  natural  territory  in 
the  world,  cut  down  and  reduced  by  treaties  which 
served  to  push  him  farther  and  farther  west,  and  then 
were  violated  and  deleted  by  the  white  man  under  one 
pretence  and  another,  until  the  last  pittance  of  his  land 
was  now  to  be  taken.  The  time  had  come  when  he 
must  see  his  people  dominated  by  armed  marshals  and 
dragged  before  Federal  courts  under  trumped-up  "fire 
water"  Charges,  and  before  unfeeling  judges  in  all 
their  Governmental  pomposity  and  utter  disregard  for 
all  law  and  precedent;  some  of  whom,  if  not  most, 
were  appointed  and  sent  out  from  Washington  for  the 
adeptness  of  themselves  and  friends  in  graft,  rather 
than  their  wisdom  in  the  great  science  of  Blackstone 
and  Kent ;  and  who  needed  only  to  hear  the  charge 
against  a  batch  of  twenty  or  thirty  poor,  ignorant  In 
dians,  lined  up  (as  they  were  frequently)  in  platoon 
bunches,  and  the  response  of  some  officious  deputy 
marshal  that  they  "all  plead  guilty,"  to  order  all  to  the 


EDITOR'S  SCHOLIUM.— Cont. 

penitentiary  for  terms  that  meant,  to  many  of  them, 
life  sentences.  This  was  most  abhorrent  and  odious 
in  the  eyes  and  to  the  feelings  of  a  tribe  who  would 
prefer  death  by  fire  and  torture  before  slavery  or  sub 
mission  to  foreign  rule. 

Not  only  had  he  seen  his  people's  children  taken 
from  the  parents,  but  the  parents  had  been  forced  to 
pay  the  children's  board,  at  ruinous  prices,  away  from 
home,  out  of  the  accumulated  fund  belonging  to  them, 
and  for  the  "new-fangled"  clothes  that  were  so  hate 
ful  in  the  sight  of  the  parents  and  so  distasteful  and 
hampering  to  the  free,  lithe  limbs  of  the  "children  of 
the  forest." 

He  had  seen  the  day  come  when  his  shrewdest  and 
best  informed  subjects  were  throwing  off  the  "blanket" 
and  tribal  relations  ;  when  a  party  of  "squaw-men"  and 
half-bloods  had  formed  and  grown  up  stronger  than 
the  parent  stem,  and  was  advocating  for  surrender  to 
the  white  man  the  last  vestige  of  ancient  rights  for  the 
privilege  of  citizenship  and  "white-man  enthusiasm 
and  big-going-to-do" — when  his  young  men  and  women 
were  being  turned  out  as  graduates  from  thje  Govern 
ment  schools,  with  the  maternal  and  paternal  love 
"educated  out  of  them,"  espousing  the  white  man's 
ideas  and  wearing  the  white  man's  clothes ;  inter 
marrying  with  the  whites^  and  bringing  into  disrepute 
the  old  tribal  relations  and  chief-rule,  as  old-fashioned 
and  out-of-date.  The  day  had  come  when  not  only 
were  these  things  being  done,  but  when  it  was  being 
demonstrated  that  it  was  best  for  both  races  that  it 
should  be  done — that  the  merger  of  the  red  race  into 
the  white  and  its  amalgamation  had  become  the  inevit 
able  and  certain  fruits  of  the  finger-point  of  Fate ! 


EDITOR'S  SCHOLIUM.— Cont. 

He  had  seen  the  day  approach  when  he,  the  great 
Indian  Chief  of  the  proud,  unconquerable  Kaw  race, 
must  give  way  to  the  government  of  the  Great  White 
Father  at  Washington;  when  the  beautiful  legends  of 
his  tribe  would  never  more  be  handed  down  from  gen 
eration  to  generation  through  the  lips  of  the  chiefs, 
but  must  be  recorded  like  simple,  prosaic  history,  to 
be  read  by  the  vulgar  and  uninitiated ! 

The  old  Chief's  beautiful  daughter,  Tayiah  (mean 
ing  "Little  Deer"),  was  then  nearing  graduation  in 
one  of  the  Government  schools,  and  had  been  elected 
valedictorian  of  her  class;  and  the  young  man  (our 
author)  had  given  her  valuable  assistance  in  the 
preparation  of  her  graduation  paper,  with  which  she 
took  the  first  grand  prize,  a  scholarship  in  the  great 
Indian  University  of  Carlisle,  Pennsylvania.  The 
young  man  had  not  yet  put  the  connubial  chalice  to 
his  lips,  and  could  not  conceal  the  attachment  he  felt 
for  the  fair  Indian  maiden ;  in  fact,  he  spent  much  of 
his  time  away  from  his  office  and  at  the  palatial 
brown-stone  manor-house  of  the  rich  old  Chief,  in 
company  with  his  talented  daughter.  The  old  Chief 
was  not  blind,  and  his  eyes  twinkled  with  suppressed 
pleasure  when  he  saw  the  play  of  affection  between 
the  two ;  he  did  not  attempt  to  conceal  the  fact  that  he 
would  be  pleased  to  lay  his  mantle  on  the  young  man's 
shoulders.  He  felt  that  his  oath  of  secrecy  should 
bind  him  no  longer,  since  to  hold  the  secret  would  be 
but  to  lose  it  to  the  world. 

These  legends  had  been  given  to  him  by  his  prede 
cessor  chief,  on  his  election  to  that  high  office,  under 
oath  that  thev  should  never  be1  revealed  except  to  his 
successor.  (The  tribe  did  not  have  a  written  language 
and,  like  all  the  other  tribes,  made  no  written  history ; 


26 


EDITOR'S  SCHOLIUM.— Cont. 

but,  unlike  the  other  tribes,  the  Kaws  preserved  their 
history  by  and  through  their  "Chief  Legends."  Their 
legends  in  the  breasts  of  the  old  chiefs  constituted  their 
history,  and  were  handed  down  from  chief  to  chief, 
by  word  of  mouth,  from  the  beginning  of  time  to  the 
present ;  and  were,  by  an  ancestral  decree,  never  to  be 
written  "as  long  as  water  should  flow  or  grass  grow.",) 

Wash-hun-gah  saw  that,  in  all  probability,  no  suc 
cessor  would  ever  be  elected  to  succeed  him,  and  that 
the  great  legends  must  be  lost  to  the  world  on  his 
death ;  he  therefore  consented,  after  great  deliberation 
and  prayer,  together  with  pow-wows  and  corn-dances 
among  all  the  people  of  his  tribe,  to  give  to  his  young 
friend  and  attorney,  under  the  sanctity  of  a  most  sol 
emn  and  binding  oath  that  they  should  not  be  revealed 
by  him  to  the  world  until  there  was  no  longer  any 
probabilty  of  a  successor ;  and  even  then,  in  no  event, 
until  a  period  of  twenty-one  years  from  the  Chief's 
death  should  have  elapsed,  all  the  Sacred  Legends  of 
the  Tribe. 

It  was  under  these  circumstances  that  this  strange 
legend  of  AD-EM -N EX-LA,  among  all  the  other  legends 
of  the  tribe,  was  given  to  the  author  just  a  few  months 
prior  to  the  death  of  the  grand  old  Chief — the  last 
living  Chief  of  the  Kaw  Nation. 

The  author  was  permitted  to  write  them  all  and 
translate  them  from  the  Choctaw  to  the  English  lan 
guage  ;  and  they  have  remained  hidden  away  from  the 
eyes  of  all  beholders,  a  profound  secret,  until  the  expi 
ration  of  the  time  limit ;  and  this  first  revelation  brings 
forth  now  the  first  one  of  them  for  publication  for  the 
first  time  in  the  history  of  the  world. 


27 


EDITOR'S  SCHOLIUM.— Cont. 

The  legend  of  AD-EM-NEL-LA  is  the  Kaw's  belief 
concerning  the  creation  and  population  of  the  worlds, 
and  especially  of  the  Earth.  It  teaches  that,  before 
anything  was  created,  and  when  nothing  except  CHI- 
TOKAKA,  Almighty  God  himself,  existed,  He  in  his 
wisdom  made  all  the  Souls  that  were  ever  to  be,  and 
constituted  of  them  a  commission,  or  conclave,  with 
all  powers  that  He  himself  had,  except  the  power  to 
create  a  soul.  In  fact,  the  Conclave  had  more  power 
than  the  Godhead,  because  it  could  create  imperfect 
worlds  and  beings,  while  God  could  not  create  an  im 
perfect  or  impure  being.  That  this  Conclave  of  Souls 
created  all  worlds  and  peopled  them  with  beings  in 
which  the  souls  themselves  took  up  their  abode,  and 
had  their  in-dwelling  for  the  purpose  of  demonstrating 
that  a  being  made  from  any  substance  whatever,  if 
leavened  with  a  part  of  the  Divine  Essence,  will  rise 
and  perfect  itself,  in  course  of  time,  until  it  eventually 
becomes  worthy  to  sit  in  the  councils  of  the  Most 
High,  and,  in  fact,  becomes  a  part  of  the  Godhead. 

The  names  of  many  of  the  members  of  this  Council 
or  Conclave  have  been  handed  down  through  the  gen 
erations  for  many  ages  as  they  appear  in  this  revela 
tion.*  They  will  show  undoubtedly  that  they  do  not 
belong  to  the  Choctaw  language;  but  bear  a  very 
strong  resemblance  to  the  Israelitic  or  Hebrew  names  -, 
and  if  they  came  from  that  source,  it  is  evident  that 
they  came  to  this  country  long  before  our  history  be 
gins.  We  have  no  history  of  the  Jews  having  had  any 
communication  with,  or  even  knowledge  of  the  exist- 
ance  of,  the  Western  Hemisphere  until  the  fifteenth 
century ;  and  this  legend  certainly  antedated  that  pe 
riod.  How  these  legends  got  to  North  America,  or, 
indeed,  how  the  Indian  tribes  reached  this  country,  is 

*See  page  63. 

28 


EDITOR'S  SCHOLIUM.— Cont. 

one  of  the  hitherto  unsolved  mysteries,  as  there  is  no 
history  extant  that  throws  any  light,  and  it  is  yet 
shrouded  in  mystery,  unless  the  "Legends  of  the  Great 
Kaw  Tribe,  as  Revealed  through  Their  Last  Surviving 
Chief,  Wash-hun-gah,"  which  have  not  yet  been  given 
to  the  world,  shall  be  found  to  supply  the  missing  link. 
It  is  a  well-developed  theory  among  a  class  of 
archaeologists  that  the  North  American  Indian  sprang 
from  the  same  race  that,  centuries  afterward,  laid  the 
foundation  of  the  empires  of  the  Incas  and  Aztecs  in 
South  America;  that  the  Easter  Islands,  and  all  that 
Polynesian  group,  were  reached  at  first,  and  later  the 
South  American  coast,  by  traveling  from  one  island  to 
another  across  the  intervening  ocean;  and  thus  they 
found  their  way  to  this  continent  over  islands  that 
have  since  disappeareed  beneath  the  waters  of  the 
Pacific  Ocean.  The  Department  of  Agriculture  is 
now  interesting  all  the  ethnologists,  botanists,  and  lin 
guists  in  a  careful  study  of  the  Malayo-Polynesian 
archaeology,  the  languages,  etc.,  and  it  is  likely  that  our 
author  will  soon  begin  the  publication  of  the  Revela 
tions  of  Wash-hun-gah  that  pertain  to  this  phase  of  the 
history  of  the  world,  if  some  of  the  national  museums 
or  historical  societies  do  not  take  them  over. 


It  is  patent  that  many  modern  ideas  and  details 
of  quite  recent  date  have  grown  into  the  legend  of 


EDITOR'S  SCHOLIUM.— Cont. 

AD-EM-NEL-LA,  and  become  a  part  of  it;  the  incidents 
of  the  love-story  itself  seem  to  have  taken  place  in  a 
Western  town  in  the  United  States,  and  among  white 
people,  within  the  last  few  years ;  but  this  is  only  nat 
ural,  since  all  legends  take  on  color  and  form  from 
every  country  and  every  age  through  which  they  pass. 
It  is  a  well-known  corollary  that  everything  which 
depends  for  its  life  on  communication  from  lip  to  lip, 
without  written  record,  partakes  of  the  lips  through 
which  it  passes  down  through  the  ages,  and  may  be 
traced  in  that  way.  There  can  be  no  doubt  of  the  an 
tiquity  of  this  legend  when  this  phase  of  it  is  carefully 
and  rightly  studied. 

AD-EM-NEL-LA  was  one  of  the  originally  created 
souls,  and  therefore  a  part  of  the  original  Conclave  of 
Souls  that  created  all  worlds  and  all  the  inhabitants 
of  all  worlds ;  and  it  is  the  legend  of  AD-EM -NEL-LA 
alone  which  is  revealed  in  this  book.  He  was  con 
signed,  by  the  Conclave,  to  take  up  his  abode  in  the 
bodies  of  two  individual  persons  on  the  Earth.  By  the 
Conclave's  design  the  creatures  made  for  the  different 
worlds  were  made  suitable  for  the  worlds  for  which 
they  were  created.  The  Earth  was  created  with  a  dual 
nature,  everything  was  made  in  pairs;  there  was  a 
male  and  female  duality  that  pervaded  every  particle 
and  atom  of  the  Earth  and  all  the  things  that  pertained 
to  it;  and,  as  no  perfect  thing  could  have  duality,  or 
as  a  half  unit*  with  no  power  to  procreate  itself  with 
out  the  meeting  of  another  sex  or  foreign  element  was 
incomplete,  it  was  evident  that  a  union  of  two  individ 
uals  of  every  species  and  thing  on  the  Earth  was  re 
quired  to  make  perfection  or  perfect  entity;  and  as 
every  soul  was  a  perfect  entity,  and  a  likeness  of  the 
Creator,  the  souls  to  be  sent  to  the  Earth  were  nec 
essarily  divided  into  two  parcels  to  fit  the  male  and 
female  atoms  of  clay  that  were  to  become  human 
beings. 

30 


EDITOR'S  SCHOLIUM.— Cont. 

A  soul  thus  divided  into  male  and  female  parts  and 
put  into  seperate  individuals  would  incline  those  indi 
viduals  to  seek  each  other,  because  the  immortal  would 
dominate  the  mortal  part  of  the  individual  and  force 
him  toward  an  union. 

The  theory  of  the  legend,  therefore,  is  that  there 
can  be  but  one  man  in  the  world  for  each  woman,  and 
vice  versa,  and  that  a  union  of  individuals  whose  par 
cenary  or  chorisized  souls  are  not  parts  of  one  com 
plete  entity  is  an  abortion  of  Nature  and  an  attempt 
to  annul  the  great  "First  Law." 

The  love-story  is  told  by  the  male  AD-EM-NEX-LA 
seeking  his  Amaralma,  or  female  element  of  his  soul 
— the  destined  man  and  woman  seeking  each  other,  the 
man  and  woman  fated,  created  for  each  other. 

It  seems  that  when  the  destined  pair  found  each 
other  on  the  Earth,  they  belonged  to  different  strata  of 
society,  moved  in  different  "sets,"  or  there  was  some 
other  great  obstacle  that  prevented  them  from  meet 
ing  each  other  in  the  ordinary  manner;  and  their 
courtship  had  to  be  entirely  clandestine — they  could 
not  even  write  to  each  other.  In  fact,  it  seems  to 
have  been  a  courtship  different  from  any  other  ever 
known,  in  that  it  extended  over  a  long  period  of  time 
and  a  multiplicity  of  circumstances,  without  the  lovers 
having  ever  spoken  or  written  to  each  other  until  after 
the  courtship  was  entirely  at  an  end. 

The  most  praiseworthy  and  strongest  as  well  as  the 
most  poetic  trait  in  the  character  of  the  Indian's  nature 
seems  to  be  that  steadfastness  with  which  he  conforms 
and  adheres  to  the  tribal  forms  or  laws  of  his  society 
— his  sterling,  unwavering  honesty  even  in  the  face  of 
death  itself.  It  has  been  often  remarked  that  an  In- 


EDITOR'S  SCHOLIUM..— Cont. 

dian  who  is  condemned  to  death  needs  no  bond  to 
bring  him  to  the  place  of  execution  on  the  day  set ;  and, 
from  this  story,  he  seemed  to  be  as  conscientious  in 
matters  of  love.  Although  these  lovers  had  an  abiding 
consciousness  that  they  were  created  for  each  other, 
and  were  a  part  of  each  other  by  the  inevitable  law  of 
Nature,  which  they  believed  was  above  all  laws  that 
man  could  make,  they  would  not  disobey  the  man- 
made  law,  but  sought  to  overcome  it  in  another  way. 
How  they  succeeded,  if  they  did  succeed,  is  left  to  the 
judgment  of  the  reader. 

It  smacks  of  a  modern  love-story,  and  is  told  by 
the  hero  himself,  and  entirely  in  verse.  It  is  also  a 
monologue  and  a  pantomime  in  the  nature  of  a  picture 
play.  They  had  no  secret  meetings,  communications, 
nor  liaisons ;  and  all  they  did  was  fairly  legitimate. 


It  has  been  the  purpose  of  the  author  to  render  the 
story  into  clean-cut  English,  and  eliminate  all  Choctaw 
words  from  the  text,  holding  as  he  does  that  quotations 
of  this  kind,  though  so  pleasing  to  the  linguist  who 
may  understand  them,  are  odious  to  the  general  reader 
and  should  not  be  included.  In  making  some  difficult 
renditions,  however,  where  the  exact  "sense"  of  the 
original  expression  was  found  to  be  a  little  clumsy 
when  brought  into  English,  he  has  given  extracts  from 
the  original  language  in  the  form  of  notes  in  the  back 
part  of  the  book,  that  will  more  aptly  and  fitly  eluci 
date  the  idea  of  those  passages  in  the  story  in  its  orig 
inal  form,  and  be  found  very  helpful  for  the  reader 
who  is  acquainted  with  the  Choctaw. 

The  figures  after  the  words  in  the  text  treated  will 
refer  the  reader  to  the  treatment. 

THE  EDITOR. 


AD-EM-NEL-LA. 

(Note. — Please  read  Editor's  Scholium  before   beginning  the 
story. ) 

I. — THE  CREATION. 

Before  a  thought  of  worlds  had  e'er  obtained, 
Or  earth  or  firmament  was  made  or  named, 

Before  the  twilight  dawn  of  Time,  we  find 

In  God's  Omniscient,  Omnipresent  Mind 
A  notion  to  create — to  cause  to  be 
A  being  like  Himself — fac-simile; 

A  perfect  being,  one  to  sit  in  state, 

Omnipotent  and  able  to  create, 
Replica  of  Himself — a  perfect  mold, 
A  nascent  being — An  Immortal  Soul.*  l 

Each  Soul  was  part  of  God,  a  Spark  or  Breath, 

Free  from  annihilation,  loss,  or  death ; 
Divine  and  holy  Essence,  Leavening, 
Through  which  to  reach  all  matter,  and  it  bring, 

Through  its  own  efforts — its  own  energy, 

Up  to  a  state  of  Immortality ; 

That  each  crude  entity  in  God's  expanse 
Might  corporate  itself,  rise  and  advance, 

All  wisdom  learn,  itself  perfect  and  fit — 

Become  a  part  of  God,  and  Infinite. 


*See  notes  explaining  the  text,  page  143. 


33 


AD-EM-NEL-LA. 

His  purpose,  in  this  potent  work,  was  this : 

To  share  a  measure  of  Celestial  bliss 

And  have  companions2  in  His  heavenly  home — 
('Twas  not  good,  e'en,  for  God  to  be  alone)  ; 

To  constitute,  of  mentors2,  in  the  skies, 

A  Conclave  to  intuit  and  improvise 

Plans  for  a  wide  extension  of  His  grace, 
Make  myriads  of  worlds  and  place  in  space ; 

To  people  each  with  creatures  fit  to  hold 

Some  part,  or  all,  of  an  Immortal  Soul, 

That  every  creature,  whether  high  or  low, 
Throughout  the  Universe  might  feel  and  know 

The  ruling  habitant  of  his  own  sphere 

Is  part  of  God,  and  God  is  everywhere. 

Thus  He  made  every  Soul  that  was  to  be 

Or  live  in  time,  or  in  eternity ; 

And  I  was  first  on  that  Supernal  Roll — 
('Twas  AD-EM-NEL-LA  that  He  named  my  Soul.) 

I  sat  in  all  the  Conclaves  of  the  skies, 
Compeer,  confrere  with  God,3  like  Him  all-wise. 
Our  franchise,  theurgic,  was  to  create 
"All  but  the  Soul,  be  they  things  small  or  great." 

We  made  all  worlds — made  all  the  space  would  hold — 
Composed  of  tin,  of  brass,  of  zinc,  of  gold, 

Of  radium  gradate,  some  lower,  some  higher, 
Aluminum,  feldspar,  clay,  brimstone,  fire — 
Some  substances  more  rare  than  these  we  used, 
Which  we  made  with  a  breath,  nor  power  abused. 


34 


THE  CREATION. 


Of  worlds  we  made  there  was  no  lack,  nor  dearth; 

And  one  of  them  our  Conclave  called  "The  Earth" ; 
And  for  the  world  called  Earth,  as  was  our  plan, 
We  made  that  lordly  habitant  called  "Man." 


Jehovah  might  have  made  mankind  direct, 
Complete,  immortal,  perfect,  circumspect; 
But  He  decreed  that  each  recipient 
Perfect  himself  through  self-development.4 

Some  worlds,  the  "suns,"  and  "moons,"  and  "stars,' 
we  set 

Within  the  heavens,  like  a  minaret, 

Those  interstellar  jewels  clad  in  white, 
As  scintillating  beacons  of  the  night ; 

From  ambient  depths  of  that  lugubrious  gloom 

We  created  that  cynosure  of  bloom, 

Unknown  to  order,  light,  to  cold  or  heat, 
And  set  its  nebulae  in  her  retreat. 

In  darkest  rift  and  orifice  we  set 

Such  lambent  jewels,  in  their  parapet, 

As  would  reflect  the  tints  of  distant  sky 
By  flashes  from  the  Sun's  resplendent  eye. 

These  jewels,  yet,  no  crimson  light  had  seen, 
Nor  spun  their  colors  in  its  brilliant  sheen ; 
The  artist-god  of  tints  had  not  begun, 
For  we  had  not  yet  made  and  placed  the  Sun. 
Till  all  had  been  created — all  finite, 
All  space  was  in  Cimmerian  pall  of  night ; 


35 


AD-EM-NEL-LA. 

No  modicum  of  light  had  yet  been  seen, 

Premonitory  of  the  spectral  gleam. 

The  "Milky  Way"  had  not  exposed  to  sight 
Catoptric,  pearly  avenues  of  white, 

Its  veil  had  not  been  rent  athwart  the  sky ; 

The  Universe  was  dark,  there  was  no  "eye." 


Our  Conclave  then  arose  to  its  full  height, 
To  lift  the  pall  from  that  eternal  night, 

That  Stygian  darkness,  that  great  deep  abyss 

Which  ne'er  had  known  nor  felt  a  sunbeam's  kiss, 
Knew  not  the  great  catholicon  of  day, 
Its  prophylactic,  penetrating  ray ; 

Knew  not  of  that  sweet  message  "Life"  might 
bring, 

Because,  as  yet,  we  'd  made  no  living  thing. 

And  when  the  planet  worlds  were  made  to  fit, 

Each  in  a  proper  place  in  its  orbit, 

And  ready  to  be  moved,  or  turned,  or  reeled 
Like  army  hosts  in  some  great  battlefield 

Commanded  by  some  great  Napoleon, 

Or  Caesar  when  he  crossed  the  Rubicon, 

Each  made  to  trace  and  retrace  its  own  course, 
By  that  unerring  law,  we  made,  called  force, 

And  all,  in  awe-inspiring  aspect,  stood 

As  sentries  of  that  deep,  stark  solitude — 
That  great  unfathomable,  broad  unpent, 
Devoid  of  crenelle  in  its  battlement ; 

And  all  was  cold  and  distant,  dark  and  dead, 

Except  our  Soul-Conclave  and  its  Godhead, 

We  fashioned,  set  the  great  Sun  in  his  place,  • 
To  light  and  vitalize  all  Nature's  face ; 

And,  unveiling  His  face  'mid  blackest  night, 

God  said :  "Let  there  be  light,"  and  there  was  light. 

36 


THE  CREATION. 

And  when  that  light  to  all  the  worlds  had  sped, 
In  all  its  primal  colors  panoplied, 

Archangels  sang  their  shouts,  "Hallelujah !" 
In  holy,  thankful  praise  for  that  New  Day. 
And  planet,  moon,  and  star,  and  asteroid, 
New  born  into  the  family,  out  their  void, 

Redeemed  from  pristine  chasm  and,abyss, 
Sent  back  a  radiant  gleam,  a  thankful  kiss. 
"Aurora  Borealis"  through  the  sky 
Sent  lighted  streamers  in  her  ecstasy, 

And  over  all  a  "Bow  of  Promise"  spanned, 
A  promise,  everlasting,  from  God's  hand ! 


We  set  the  worlds  in  space,  their  orbits  fixed, 
We  circumscribed  their  spheres,  them  intermixed ; 
Made  some  to  turn  on  axis'  rythmic  move, 
And  some  to  wobble  in  a  spiral  groove ; 
Some  with  eccentric  play,  now  up,  now  down, 
Some  rolling  east,  then  west  when  half  around  ; 
One  speeding  'round  a  segment  to  its  arc, 
Then  on  the  chord  to  reach  its  countermark ; 
Some  flying  fast  as  if  quite  unrestrained — 
Momentum  wild — control  again  regained — 


37 


AD-EM-NEL-LA. 

We  made  a  law  that  would  each  world  protect, 
And  give  its  functions  purpose  and  effect ; 

And  all  were  then  inspected, 'as  they  stood, 
By  God  himself,  Who  said :  "  Tis  very  good." 


II. — ALL  WORLDS  WERE  PUT  IN  MOTION. 

When  we  had  harnessed  the  machinery,  then, 

Had  oiled  the  gudgeons,  "cranked  the  car,"  and  when 

All  Heaven's  hosts  had  gathered  for  the  show, 

God  touched  the  'lectric  spark  and  let  it  go. 
The  whir  and  rumble,  swish  and  roar  that  rent 
The  clouds  and  loosed  the  thunder's  tones  long  pent,30 

Brought  back  to  our  Conclave  the  glad  acclaim, 

In  universal  worship  of  His  Name. 

The  dreary  wastes,  long  silent,  mute  and  dumb, 

Reverberated  with  Machinery's  hum ; 

That  universal  World's- Wheel-Orchestra 
Played  the  inaug'ral  anthem  of  that  day ! 

That  momentum  of  force  will  never  slack — 

Artillery  from  Heaven  "bellowed  back" 

In  one  contin'ous,  deaf'ning,  thund'rous  roar — 
World's  glad  acclaim  echoed  from  farthest  shore. 

Our  Conclave  stopped  its  labors  to  drink  in 

And  pay  hosanna  to  the  rav'shing  din ; 

It  was,  in  deed,  the  "music  of  the  spheres," 
We  watched  and  listened  for  a  thousand  years ! 


AD-EM-NEL-LA. 
III. — POPULATING  THE  WORLDS. 

Inhabitants  were  made  for  each  new  place, 
Each  from  the  substance  of  its  own  world's  face; 
A  Soul,  or  .part  of  Soul,  was  then  assigned 
To  each  of  these  as  our  Conclave  designed. 
Sometimes  one  Soul  sufficed  for  five  or  ten, 
According  to  that  world's  design,  or  when, 

As  on  the  Earth,  where,  by  Conclave  'decreed, 
Two  persons  have  for  but  one  Soul  a  need. 
And  all  the  worlds,  and  their  inhabitants, 
Were  made  in  Heaven's  Conclave,  in  advance 
Of  His  approving,  final  signature ; 
We  made  them  all,  but  made  none  perfect — pure. 
Each  habitant  of  every  world  made  him 
In  pairs,  or  sets,  or  groups,  whate'er  our  whim. 

The  habitants  of  Earth  in  pairs,  to  hold 
The  male  and  female  fractions  of  a  Soul. 
No  being  with  a  sex  can  be  complete, 
And  hence  our  law  by  which  both  sexes  meet 
To  constitute  an  entity,  or  whole, 
One  of  each  sex  for  each  Chorisized  Soul ; 
And  each  of  these  two  sexes  we  inclined 
So  it  would  seek  its  complement  in  kind. 


To  every  living  thing  in  earth  or  sea 

We  gave  this  nature  of  duplexity ; 

Just  why  we  made  mankind  male  and  female, 
I  may  reveal  to  you  in  my  next  tale. 


AD-EM-NEL-LA. 
IV. — CARRYING  OUT  THE  GREAT  LAW. 

In  Conclave's  session,  as  if  by  new  birth, 
I  was  appointed  to  come  down  to  Earth ; 

All  female  parts,  cast  out  of  me,  combined 
To  animate  a  being  of  that  kind ; 
The  other  half  of  me  was  then  sent,  and 
Went  in  to  vitalize  and  make  a  man ; 

The  Man  and  Woman  had  the  task  assigned, 
To  seek  and  find  each  other,  and,  combined, 
Produce  descendants  after  their  own  kind 
According  to  the  Will  of  Divine  Mind. 

(All  progeny  are  mongrels,  as  a  whole, 
But  children  of  those  with  a  common  Soul. 
The  law  is  strict,  "No  innovation  make, 
Miscegenation's  child  thou  shalt  not  take, 
Thou  shalt  not  marry  if  thou  canst  not  find 
Thy  Amaralma — complement  in  kind.") 


V. — THE  FATED  MAN  AND  WOMAN  MEET. 

And,  coming  now  to  Earth,  I  am  that  man, 

And  sought  that  woman  who  enthralled  my  heart ; 

I  searched  the  Earth  for  her,  as  was  His  plan, 
Until  my  eyes  beheld  my  counterpart. 


40 


THE  FATED  MAN  AND  WOMAN  MEET. 

I  knew  her  when  I  saw  her — knew  her  well — 

Embodiment  of  all  that 's  fair  and  good  ; 
She,  with  her  modest  beauty,  cast  a  spell 

No  sentient,  mortal  man  could  have  withstood. 
To  say  I  was  enraptured  were  too  mild, 

My  whole  volition  passed  to  her  control ; 
A  rev'rie  filled  the  heart  of  Nature's  child, 

Kaleidoscopic  visions  charmed  my  soul! 

'Twas  Sunday  morn,  she  stood  at  her  church  door 

To  open  it  for  those  who  'd  enter  there ; 
I  ne'er  had  seen  or  noticed  her  before — 

I  then  beheld  her  face,  her  eyes,  her  hair ! 
Oh !  was  it  she,  or  could  I  b'lieve  my  eyes  ? 

So  placid,  beautiful,  so  young,  so  fair! 
Oh,  how  it  thrilled  my  soul  to  recognize 

My  living  Amaralma  standing  there ! 

At  first  she  seemed  to  hesitate,  and  gaze, 

And  search  my  eyes  to  find  the  secret  there ; 
And  now  'twas  found,  she  seemed  as  in  a  maze, 

For  she,  like  I,  had  sought  it  everywhere. 
I  knew  she  knew  me,  and  her  love  was  strong ; 

I  knew  it  was  the  first  she  'd  ever  felt ; 
Oh,  what  a  task,  with  me,  in  that  great  throng, 

To  hide  the  feelings  which,  then,  in  me  dwelt ! 
The  knowledge  that  I  'd  found  her  racked  my  frame 

And  stilled  my  soul  like  some  great,  deep  forebode, 
My  tongue  lay  silent — could  not  speak  her  name, 

And  fear  in  rash  confusion  o'er  me  rode. 


THE  FATED  MAN  AND  WOMAN  MEET. 

I  saw  my  other  half  in  full  array, 

Reflected  from  our  Soul,  in  all  her  form, 

Her  roguish,  laughing,  jet-black  eyes  that  day 

Pierced  through  my  heart  like  sweetest  breath  of 
morn. 


VI. — WE  WERE  STRANGERS,  SHE  A  SLAVE. 

We  ne'er  had  seen  each  other  till  that  day, 

Nor  knew  each  other's  names  nor  ranks  in  life; 
I  knew  not  if  some  barrier  might  stay, 

Nor  whether  she  could  ever  be  my  wife. 
Alas  !  I  found,  too  soon,  we  could  not  meet ; 

She  was  in  bondage,  an  unwilling  slave, 
Enchained  by  that  old  dragon-god  Discreet, 

In  fetters  cold  and  ruthles^  as  the  grave. 

He  forged  his  chains  about  her  del'cate  form, 

Enacted  laws  to  make  his  powers  secure, 
Pretendingly  to  shield  her  from  all  harm, 

But  that  her  love  for  him  he  might  inure. 
Exacting,  jealous  lover,  dragon-god, 

He  gave  no  quarter  nor  hindrances  brooked, 
He  ruled  her,  swayed  her  with  an  iron  rod, 

And  closely  to  her  shackles  ever  looked. 

In  spite  of  all  his  strictures,  vigilance — 

His  locks,  his  bolts,  his  bars,  as  always  prove, 
She  found  excuse  at  me  to  steal  a  glance ; 

For  there  's  no  lock  that  can  imprison  love. 
And  as  she  blithely  tripped  along  the  street, 

Bedight  in  homely  dress,  with  hair  half-done, 
Or  rich  conceptions,  elegant,  complete, 

It  was  the  same  to  me,  I  had  been  won. 
42 


WE  WERE  STRANGERS,  SHE  A  SLAVE. 

For  many  hopeful,  watchful  hours  I  've  stood, 

At  some  choice  spot  that  I  might  see 'her  pass, 
And,  waiting  there  much  longer  than  I  should, 

Have  failed  to1  get  a  glimpse  of  her  at  last ; 
Or  sat  upon  the  porch  Hotel  Blowhard, 

Among  the  guests  who  frequent  that  swell  place, 
And  watched  her  glide  along  the  boulevard, 

With  all  her  agile  beauty,  poise,  and  grace ; 
And  oft  when  I  my  paper  feigned  to  read, 

To  hide  my  look  at  her  from  those  around, 
She  'd  cast  her  eye  at  me  with  lover's  greed, 

And  smile  to  see  the  paper  upside  down ; 
And  when  she  passed  me  by,  so  fresh,  so  chaste, 

The  pure,  sweet  girl  with  youth  and  love,  so  gay, 
With  what  glad  zeal  I  was  constrained  to  haste. 

And  go  to  take  my  station  there  next  day. 

Sometimes  she  'd  recognize  me  with  her  eye, 

Sometimes  my  longing,  saddened  look  she  'd  meet ; 
But  many  were  the  times  she  dared  not  try, 

Because  of  her  dread  fear  of  old  Discreet. 
When  he  found  out  one  method  she  'd  employed 

To  show  her  love  was  strong  and  true  for  me, 
And  ordered  her  to  cease,  she,  unannoyed,5 

Would  find  another  ruse  in  strategy ; 
When  she.  in  passine  me,  dared  look  no  more, 

She  'd  pass  me  bv,  and  then,  sometimes,  turn  back ; 
Sometimes  she  'd  look  in  window,  or 'glass  door. 

And  thus  give  Discreet's  vigilance  a  "whack." 
Sometimes,  in  passine  me,  when  she  got  by, 

And  knew  herself  the  object  of  my  stare, 
She  'd  touch  her  dainty  finger  'neath  her  eye. 

As  if  to  stanch  a  toar  that  lingered  there. 


43 


AD-EM-NEL-LA. 

And  when  old  dragon  caught  this  artful  ruse, 

She  'd  smile  while  passing  me,  but  look  away, 

And,  in  the  smile,  she  said:     "You  must  excuse; 
Old  dragon  's  closely  after  me  to-day." 

And  then  I  'd  hie  to  some  sequestered  nook, 

And  pour  out  tears  fresh  from  Dan  Cupid's  fount, 

Sweet-bitter  tears  that  none  could  ever  brook 
Except  the  lover  standing  on  Hope's  mount. 


VII. — THE  FOLUES  OF  I  LOVERS. 

One  night  we  sat  in  church ;  her  hat  was  new, 

(I  Jm  pleased  to  see  her  sport  new  dress  or  hat.) 
She  turned  and  sat  one-sided  in  her  pew, 

As  if  to  hear  the  discourse  better  by  that; 
Her  real  aim  was  that  our  eyes  might  meet, 

And  drink  love's  potions  from  their  crystal  depths ; 
And,  at  the  same  time,  puzzle  old  Discreet, 

And  hamper  him  in  taking  other  steps. 

That  hour  sermonic,  sweetest  ever  felt, 

We  laved  our  souls  in  crystal  founts  of  love; 
And  while  the  preacher  on  the  Dead  Sea  dwelt, 

iWe  dwelt  on  holy  unction  from  above ; 
Oh,  heavenly  sermon  that  it  must  have  been ! 

She  looked  so  innocent,  so  chic,  so  cute — 
It  must  have  cleansed  the  people  from  their  sin, 

I  saw  her  triune  hat  plumes  them  salute. 


44 


THE  FOLLIES  OF  LOVERS. 

The  service  out,  too  soon  we  had  to  go ; 

She  strode  away  with  Cleopatric  grace, 
And,  from  the  tonneau  of  her  new  auto, 

She  turned  and  smiled  into  my  pleading  face. 
The  'lectric  lights  were  dead  just  at  that  place, 

Nor  old  Discreet  nor  anyone  could  see, 
But  she  saw  me,  and  I  could  see  her  face, 

Its  brilliant  beauty  was  a  sun  to  me. 

There  was  a  halo  shining  'round  her  face — 

I  had  not  noticed  it  until  that  night ; 
I  see  it  now  at  any  time,  or  place — 

It  makes  her  form  a  radiant  of  light ; 
This  halo  e'en  affects  her  clothes,  her  gown, 

So  much  that  when  her  sister  wears  her  hat, 
I  catch  a  glimpse  of  it  away  up  town. 

And  hie  to  seek  the  "Blowhard"  porch  from  that. 


VIII. — THE  AWFULNESS  OF  JEALOUSY. 

One  day  I  saw  her,  from  my  vantage-place, 

Smile  at  a  man  and,  passing,  smile  again, 
And,  entering  her  boudoir,  turn  her  face, 

And  give  him  one,  more  smile — (Damsttlygrin.)* 
Oh,  whew !     How  suddenly  my  heart  stood  still ! 

How  cold  the  chill  that  froze  my  rack-rent  frame  f 
How  sick  and  faint  I  felt,  how  weak  my  will ! 

How  hot  the  fire  that  set  my  soul  aflame ! 


'Anglicized  Choctaw. 


45 


AD-EM-NEL-LA. 

For  several  days  I  "camped  close  on  his  trail," 

And  watched  him  with  foul  murder  in  my  heart ; 
I  planned  to  kill  him,  crunch  him  like  a  snail — 

(He  swelled,  his  selfish  pride  began  to  start.) 
That  night,  as  I  lay  rolling — cursing — wild, 

A  hint  let  fall  of  him  and  her  I  'd  heard, 
An  act  I  'd  seen  once,  but  which,  then,  was  mild, 

Came  back  to  grill  me,  mounted,  booted,  spurred ; 
I  raved  like  some  mad  wild  beast  in  his  cage, 

As  in  my  vitals  that  "green  monster"  gnawed ; 
I  even  cursed  her,  in  my  wildest  rage ; 

And  prayed,  too,  that  I  might  not  her  defraud. 
Before  I  'd  run  the  thing  to  earth  and  found 

It  was  a  ruse  of  hers  to  fool  Discreet, 
I  found  my  hair  was  turning  gray  all  'round, 

My  head,  on  top,  somewhat  hirsute-deplete. 

(The  worst  curse  Burns  could  find  for  all  the  foes 

Of  "Scotland's  weal"  was  a  two-months  toothache  ; 
Too  merciful  he  was,  the  sequel  shows, 

To  wish  that  they  love- jealousy  might  take.) 
From  God's  plan  of  rewards  and  punishments, 

He  might  have,  well,  eliminated  Hell 
For  desp'rate  sinners — stubborn  unrepents. 

For  jealousy  had  served  that  end  as  well. 


IX.— THE  SEVERE  TEST. 


Sometimes  I  Ve  gone  away  from  our  home  town, 

That  I  might  break  the  spell  her  charms  have  cast 
I  Ve  traveled — paced  the  irksome  world  around, 
Intent,  her  magic  to  escape  at  last. 


46 


THE  SEVERE  TEST. 

I  thought  to  do  this  for  her  dear,  sweet  sake ; 

To  go  so  far  away  we  could  not  meet, 
That  she  and  I,  both,  might  the  love-charm  break, 

And  I  my  claims  release  to  old  Discreet. 
It  was  in  vain,  it  only  fanned  the  fire, 

It  only  made  me  love  her  all  the  more, 
It  warmed  the  ardor  of  her  mad  desire, 

It  interlocked  our  hearts  for  evermore. 

Whate'er  I  did,  wherever  I  might  be, 

'Twas  her  I  looked  and  waited  to  behold ; 
There  was  no  rest,  no  quietude  for  me — 

She  is  the  Pole-star  of  my  heart  and  soul. 
No  other  in  my  heart  can  fill  her  place ; 

She  is  a  part  of  me,  that  part  sublime ; 
I  crave  her  love,  I  bow  before  her  face — 

I  want  it  all,  I  want  it  all  the  time ! 
So  many  times  when  I  was  far  away, 

'Mid  scenes  enchanting,  charmed  by  Music's  spell, 
Where  Youth  was  waltzing  under  Beauty's  sway, 

In  "Lulu  Fados"  up-to-date  and  swell ; 
'Mid  sweet  incense  of  choice  exotic  flowers, 

Where  Wealth  and  Circumstance  in  Fashion's  play, 
Bejeweled  ladies  fresh  from  scented  bowers, 

In  silks  translucent  to  electric's  ray, 
In  decollete,  with  bosoms  like  the  snow, 

Aflame  with  diamonds'  scintillating  light, 
And  men  intoxicate  with  champagne's  flow, 

And  Wits  o'ercome  with  chasing  Beauty's  sprite, 
I  've  slipped  away  to  some  secluse  retreat, 

To  hide  my  tears,  and  think  of  her,  how  fair 
As  she  comes  tripping  down  the  village  street, 

In  plain  school-dress,  and  with  her  half-done  hair ! 


47 


AD-EM-NEL-LA. 

And  when  a  thousand  faces  I  have  scanned, 

And  searched  for  beauty  up  and  down  the  Earth, 
There  is  not  one  that  bears  her  stamp  and  brand — 

All  counterfeit — all  show  the  lack,  the  dearth ; 
Alike  devoid  of  that  which  grips  my  heart ; 

Controls  and  makes  me,  yet,  a  better  man — 
All  show,  all  false — they  simply  act  a  part ; 

The  genuine  is  she,  she  bears  the  brand. 


X. — WOMAN'S  LURE. 

Oft  when  she  worshiped  in  her  church  at  night,     . : 

I  felt  unworthy  to  her  presence  share, 
I  'd  hide  without  and  watch  the  colored  light 

Stream  through  art  windows,  and  her  worship 

there ; 
And  when  the  services  were  nearly  past, 

-     I  'd  skulk  her  pathway,  in  deep  shadows  bide — 
Thus  made  myself  a  cowardly  outcast, 

To  spend  one  precious  moment  near  her  side ! 

Proud  man !    in  all  thy  majesty  and  might, 

How  soon  thou  shalt  become  a  weakling — thing — 6 

When  Woman's  Lure  arrests  thy  aeroflight, 

And  plucks  the  golden  pinion  from  thy  wing ! 

Her  Lure  is  like  that  little  tongue  of  flame 

Which  plays  upon  the  lowering  storm-cloud's  face, 
And  seems  to  us  so  innocent  and  tame, 

So  harmless,  nugatory,  commonplace ; 
And,  from  its  tongue-tip,  spits  the  thunderbolt 

That  leaps  out  from  the  sky  with  cruel  stroke. 
And,  tearing  through  the  air  with  crash  and  jolt, 

Strikes,  bursts  asunder,  kills  the  giant  oak. 
48 


WOMAN'S  LURE. 

That  sturdy  mountain  oak  who,  in  his  might, 

Withstood  the  holocaust,  and  storm,  and  blast 

A  thousand  years — that  sylvan  anchorite, 
An  idol,  shattered  by  iconoclast ! 

Her  Lure  is  like  that  fragile,  velvet  wing, 

That  gossamer  of  butterfly  so  fair, 
Who  dallies,  sgorts  among  the  flowers  of  spring, 

And  rides,  so  leisurely,  the  ambient  air; 
That  ornate  wing,  light  as  the  eiderdown, 

Embellished  in  its  silvery  garniture, 
Which  fans  a  feeble  whirl  of  air  around 

That,  formed,  at  first,  in  vortex  immature, 
Engenders,  as  it  swirls,  a  momentum 

Of  force  like  which,  in  Nature,  none  is  known, 
Becomes,  of  power,  the  great  infinitum, 

That  gyratory,  deadly,  dread  Cyclone! 

Her  Lure  is  like  that  lethal  "turpinite," 

Some  grains  of  which  exploded,  it  is  said, 
Will  kill  whole  troops  of  soldiers  with  one  smite, 

And  leave  them  standing,  still  in  line,  stark  dead. 
Tis  like  that  power  mesmeric-Marconi 

Which  flashes  from  omnivorous  Atlantic 
Corruscant  sparks  of  electricity, 

And  succors,  saves  a  found'ring  Titanic, 
And  brings  its  tribulation  that  relief 

No  hitherto  known  agent  can  impart — 
Her  Lure,  a  fortiori,  latent  chief, 

It  reaches,  grips,  o'erpowers,  enslaves  my  heart! 


49 


AD-EM-NEL-LA. 
XI. — A  GREAT  OPPORTUNITY  FOR  Us. 

One  time  we  had  a  great  evangelist 

Hold  services  in  our  town  twenty  days ; 
It  was  a  union — Baptist,  Methodist — 

A  mixture  of  all  "isms"  and  all  ways ; 
The  sessions  held  in  St.  John's  Park  at  night, 

And  some  two  thousand  people  came  each  time; 
The  weather  fine,  the  park  well  wired  for  light, 

The  minister  an  orator  sublime ; 
The  orchestra  was  large  enough  to  seat 

A  thousand  singers,  organ,  lute,  and  lyre, 
Proscenium  and  preacher's  stand  complete — 

She  was  a  member  of  the  splendid  choir. 

I  believed  in  Christianity  and  prayer, 

I  was  an  interested  worshiper; 
My  Christian  zeal  as  great  as  any  there, 

And  too,  beyond  all  that,  I  worshiped  her; 
I  think  I  'm  competent,  therefore,  to  say 

A  truth  which  neither  need  be  "swaged  nor 

Swelled" : 
Of  all  religious  gath'rings  to  that  day, 

It  was  the  greatest  meeting  ever  held. 

I  first  chose  what  I  thought  a  vantage  place, 

As,  usually,  most  worthy  Christians  do, 
A  seat  not  too  far  from  the  "fount  of  grace," 

Affording  other  handy  "outlooks"  too ; 
When  I  had  chosen — settled  on  that  pew, 

She  shifted  hers  upon  the  staee  with  care, 
So  that,  with  reference  to  me,  she  knew 

She  'd  be  ensconced  behind  the  preacher's  chair. 


A  GREAT  OPPORTUNITY  FOR  US. 

She  knew  her  business  when  she  made  that  ruse : 

I  saw  old  Discreet  "lick  his  chops"  and  smile- 
He  thought,  then,  he  could  take  a  pleasure  cruise ; 
I  knew  she  had  him  beaten  half  a  mile.7 


XII.— THE  WILES  OF  THE  FAIR. 

To  see  deception  of  the  highest  grade, 

By  some  past-mistress  of  the  Circe  plan, 
You  want  to  see,  in  Love's  embrace,  a  maid 

Set  out  and  bait  her  traps  to  catch  a  man. 
Catch  one,  then  turn  him  loose  to  catch  some  more, 

And  wing  and  wound  them  with  her  polished 

darts; 
Or  sling  them,  like  a  fish,  on  some  hot  shore, 

To  gape  and  pant  for  breath  till  life  departs ; 
Manipulate,  and  get  them  to  one  spot, 

Corral  them  with  some  new  sorceric  "gag" ; 
Then,  like  the  hunter,  make  a  grand  "pot-shot," 

And  fold  their  scalps  away  in  her  handbag. 

A  man  may  have  the  wisdom  of  old  Sol., 

The  length  of  years  of  old  grandpa  Methuse., 
Repeat  Macaulay,  Shakespeare  by  the  vol., 

Know  all  philosophy  of  old  Confuce. ; 
May  know  the  labyrinths  of  old  Valjean, 

The  Pentateuch,  the  Koran,  and  all  that ; 
Spin  off  Greek  poetry  by  quire  or  ream, 

Et  tout  cela  que  noire  plus  grand  a  fait;* 


AD-EM-NEL-LA. 

But  woman,  when  she  loves,  can  set  more  plans 

To  get  the  man  she  wants — to  make  him  glad ; 
Can  wheedle,  dominate  him,  tie  his  hands, 

Manipulate  him,  make  him  good  or  bad, 
Humiliate  him,  mold  him,  him  debase, 

Lift  him  to  Heaven,  cast  him  down  to — well, 
Can  make  his  life  a  byword  and  disgrace. 

(Lord  pity  him  who  falls  before  her  spell !) 

Her  wish  was  to  conciliate  Discreet, 

To  hoodwink  him  and  mitigate  his  powers, 

To  show  him  she  was  in  a  safe  retreat ; 

And  Freedom's  right  to  love  would  then  be  ours! 

It  was  so  classy,  esoteric,  doux, 

While  she  sat  there  so  saintly,  neat,  and  meek, 
And  I  like  some  old  pompous  kangaroo, 

For  us  to  play  the  game  of  "hide  and  seek" ; 
We  played  it  straight  and  hard,  we  played  it  true — 

I  hope  you  '11  not  forget  we  "held  the  bit" ; 
And  here  's  a  secret  just  for  me  and  you : 

Old  dull  Discreet  did  not  "catch  on"  to  it. 


In  order  to  retain  our  chosen  seats, 

We  had  to  be  there  early  on  the  ground ; 

I  had  been  tardy  at  one  of  the  meets, 

And  found  her  "on  the  job"  with  mine  held  down. 


JEALOUSY  A  TRUE  TEST  OF  LOVE. 

The  members  of  the  choir  had  then  been  called, 

But  she  'd  engaged  a  chum  to  hold  her  seat ; 
She  'd,  thus,  the  members  of  the  choir  forestalled, 

And  hence  arranged  "our  business"  all  complete. 
A  little  thing  like  that  is  ne'er  forgot, 

It  weaves  of  warp  and  weft  that  will  not  part, 
It  smacks  of  piquant  romance  and  love-plot, 

And  makes  a  man  feel  good  down  in  his  heart. 


XIII. — JEALOUS v  A  TRUE  TEST  OF  LOVE. 

One  night  a  neighbor  girl  sat  near  my  seat, 

I  handed  her  a  rose  with  which  to  toy, 
She  looked  at  me  and  smiled  a  little  sweet — 

The  silly  girl  meant  naught  but  youthful  joy; 
As  soon  as  services  were  closed  that  night, 

^he  ran  and  snatched  the  rose  from  her,  away, 
Her  blazing  eyes  gave  that  poor  girl  a  fright, 

From  which  she  's  not  recovered  till  this  day. 
She  tore  its  petals  out  with  savage  frown, 

With  them  the  four  winds  of  the  Earth  made  red, 
Vindictively  she  threw  the  stamen  down, 

And  "with  her  heel  she  bruised  the  serpent's  head." 

Next  day  her  dear  face  looked  so  sad,  forlorn, 

I  felt  unable  to  restrain  my  tears ; 
She  turned  her  head  away  from  me  in  scorn — 

I  saw  she  'd  aged,  last  night,  at  least  ten  years ! 
All  through  the  services  I  sat  and  wept ; 

Until  the  very  last  she  held  aloof, 
Disdainfully  she  lofty  spirits  kept, 

In  meting  out  to  me  my  just  reproof ; 


53 


AD-EM-NEL-LA. 

I  begged  her  with  my  eyes — I  based  my  plea 

On  accident,  aussi  non  savoir  faire — 8 
To  lift  the  burden  from  me — make  me  free — 

Let  me  again  her  recognition  share. 
At  torment's  rack  she  kept  me  till  the  last ; 

And,  when  the  services  were  nearly  o'er, 
She  lowered  her  pensive  eyes — her  heart  beat  fast — 

And  let  me  gaze  into  her  soul  once  more. 

Oh,  glad  renewal's  crucible-bought  love! 

'Tis  sweeter  than  all  other  loves  beside — 
Shekinah's  search-light  beaming  from  above — 

It  lives  when  all  the  other  loves  have  died. 
The  preacher  spoke  somewhat  of  this  great  love, 

The  price  of  our  redemption  from  dread  sin ; 
Of  Christ's  descension  from  the  realms  above 

And  His  ascension  back  to  Heaven  again, 
And  how  His  closest  friends  here  on  the  Earth, 

Friends  whom  He  'd  walked  with  daily,  and  had 

shown 
The  closest  ties  of  friendship  from  His  birth, 

Denied,  shamelessly,  Him  they  'd  ever  known ! 

While  he  was  dwelling  on  that  solemn  theme, 

She  thought  of  my  great  love  and  how  replete 
It  is  for  her.  and  of  our  sweet  love-dream, 

Of  her  denial  of  me  for  old  Discreet. 
Her  face  was  saddened  by  the  solemn  thought, 

Of  how  I  'd  loved  and  waited  on  her  whim, 
How  she,  my  precious  jewel,  my  love-bought, 

Was  now  denying  me  as  they  did  Him. 


54 


JEALOUSY  A  TRUE  TEST  OF  LOVE. 

The  preacher  said  we  should  not  too  much  blame, 

We  should  condone  and  pity  all  we  can ; 
That  most  of  us,  perhaps,  would  do  the  same — 

'Twas  but  a  human  frailty  of  poor  man. 
I  told  her,  with  my  eye,  her  I  'd  not  blame, 

It  was  her  duty,  from  a  world's  viewpoint, 
That  she,  soci'ty's  belle,  maintain  her  name, 

The  skeleton  of  Pride  be  kept  anoint. 


XIV. — CONDONEMENT'S  SACRIFICE. 

He  preached  on  duty  once,  in  its  concrete : 

"The  zealous  Christian  should  for  lost  souls 

thirst;" 
She  went  and  knelt  at  that  poor  "rose-girl's"  feet, 

Too  overcome  to  speak  to  her,  at  first ; 
At  last,  when  she  had  put  her  shame  away, 

She  begged  the  girl  her  insult  to  condone, 
To  turn  and  make  a  start  for  Heaven  that  day, 

To  be  her  sister,  help  her  reach  "that  home." 
They  sang  some  more,  and  waited  in  suspense ; 

She  agonized  with  God,  her  grief  expressed, 
And  said :     "O  God,  it  is  for  my  offense"- 

And  then  the  girl  surrendered,  and  was  blessed. 

Oh  how  my  soul  rejoiced  to  see  her  work, 

How  nobly  she  had  paid  Condonement's  price, 

How  grandlv  filled  her  duty  without  shirk, 
And  led  her  erstwhile  enemy  to  Christ ! 


55 


AD-EM-NEL-LA. 

And  when  she  had  resumed  her  usual  place, 

Replenished  Discreet's  crass,  narcotic  haze, 

I  gazed  once  more  into  her  pensive  face, 

And  gave  her  once  again  my  meed  of  praise. 

And  then  we  drank,  and  drank,  and  drank  of  love ; 
Her  deep-cut  eyes,  of  which  I  Ve  often  dreamed, 

L,it  up  my  soul  with  visions  from  above — 

The  more  we  drank  the  more  athirst  we  seemed. 


XV. — ENVY'S  MISSION. 

Once,  in  an  evil  hour,  there  came  to  me, 

Of  her  a  whispered  rumor  one  had  heard, 
A  hint  of  something  some  one  knew  might  be — 

A  hint !  ten-fold  more  deadly  than  a  word ; 
A  whispered  hint  such  as  may  often  rise, 

In  coarse  stultiloquence  that  none  may  trace, 
And,  nursed  and  pampered  to  colossal  size, 

Becomes  a  stranger  at  its  starting-place ; 
A  rumor  starting  in  an  idle  jest, 

Though  it  might  be  objurgated  at, first, 
By  looks  and  whispers,  to  imply  the  rest, 

Will  soon,  through  circulation,  do  its  worst ; 
Though  it  be  but  hyperbole,  abstract, 

Yet,  oft  repeated,  listened  to,  received, 
It  waxes  strong,  at  length  becomes  a  fact 

(Or  tantamount  to  fact) — it  is  believed; 
And  having  reached  the  potency  of  fact, 

More  acts,  as  innocent,  are  misconstrued ; 
For  Envy  has  a  vital  intrigue-pact, 

Caballing  the  lascivious  and  lewd. 


ENVY'S  MISSION. 

Old  Envy  and  her  sister  Jealousy 

On  sickly  rumor  gloat  and  ruminate 
Until  its  growth  is  fairly  under  way, 

That  their  smooth  tongues10  may  it  disseminate; 
They  shoot  their  poisoned  shafts  from  Falsehood's  bow, 

They  revel  in  the  discord  they  have  sown, 
They  view  their  ripening  fields  of  tares  bend  low, 

And  haste  to  reap  a  harvest  of  their  own ; 
That  harvest  based  on  damnable  offense, 

That  crime  devoid  of  every  sense  of  shame, 
Because  it  preys  on  spotless  innocence, 

And  blackens,  withers,  pure,  sweet  woman's  name. 

And  those  two  often  sit  with  Innocence 

About  her  festive  board,  with  her  to  sip, 
Devoid  of  every  semblance  of  offense, 

In  simulated,  soothing  mock-friendship, 
And,  as  the  fairest  flower  of  plain  or  field 

May  in  its  petals  hold  a  poison  vile, 
They  that  ophid'an  poison  hold,  and  yield 

To  him  whom  they  would  deign  their  sweetest 

smile. 
In  evil  hour,  I  said,  there  came  to  me 

Aspersions  which  the  Elect  might  deceive  ; 
I  fought  suspicion,  seeking  to  be  free, 

My  love  for  her  so  strong  I  dared  believe. 
Some  weeks  passed  by  before  I  saw  her  face — 

(How  cumbrously  old  Time  dragged  those  weeks 

by!) 
And  then  we  met  in  our  accustomed  place, 

And  once  again  I  looked  into  her  eye ; 


57 


AD-EM-NEL-LA. 

And  searching  in  that  earnest,  thoughtful  eye, 
The  sacred  and  eternal  truth  to  know, 

When  she  had  given  me  her  mute  reply, 

I  knew  the  black'ning  rumor  was  not  so. 


XVI. — PANEGYRICS;  THE  LOVER'S  WAII,. 

Her  thoughtful,  guileless  face  so  tender,  true — 

No  face  like  that  has  ever  yet  been  known, 
A  daintier  baby-nose  none  ever  knew ; 

I  long  to  make  its  owner  soon  my  own. 
Oh,  that  ambrosial  osculum  so  sweet ! 

That  rich  brown  hair !  the  contour  of  her  face ! 
A  daintier  girl  I  ne'er  expect  to  meet, 

Embodiment  is  she  of  every  grace ; 
Her  embonpoint,  her  heaving  bosom  fair, 

Her  modest  taste,  her  lack  of  crass  display, 
Her  buoyancy,  her  open,  splendid  air, 

Can  not  be  duplicated  in  this  day. 
Her  mannerisms  hold  such  charm  for  me, 

I  read  in  them  her  thoughts,  her  passions'  play ; 
In  every  movement  of  her  form  I  see 

New  beauties  which  endear  her  more  each  day. 

Whatever  rugged  steeps  in  my  pathway, 

Howe'er  caliginous  my  path  may  prove, 
I  have  a  ready  balm,  panacea — 

I  only  need  to  think  of  her  dear  love. 
'Tis  thoughts  of  her  that  banish  every  ill, 

And  from  life's  cares,  vexations,  me  redeem, 
Make  my  life  one  canorous  canticle,9 

One  sweet,  romantic,  glad,  Utopian  dream. 


PANEGYRICS. 

My  love  makes  her  transparent  like  sunbeams ; 

My  soul  but  lacks  her  loving  smile  to  cheer ; 
She  's  empress  in  the  palace  of  my  dreams — 

How  sad  my  heart  when  sad  through  love  of  her ! 
I  gaze  into  her  eyes  to  see  her  soul, 

I  penetrate  its  depths  with  mystic  kiss, 
I  feast  upon  the  love  I  there  behold ; 

And  God  himself  can  give  no  greater  bliss. 
Her  love  is  more  to  me,  ten  thousand  fold, 

Than  all  that 's  held  in  earth,  in  sky,  in  sea ; 
To  lie  beside  her  in  the  tomb  and  hold 

Her  hand  for  aye  were  Heaven  enough  for  me ! 

Should  old  grim  Death  claim  her  ere  he  takes  me, 

To  its  necropolis  her  body  bear, 
Oh !  how  could  I,  poor  mortal,  bear  to  see 

My  revered  icon  of  her  soul  laid  there  ? 
But  e'en  that  minatory  cup  I  'd  drain, 

Ten  thousand  nepenthes  from  Pluto's  hand ; 
I  'd  rather  die  a  thousand  deaths  in  shame 

Than  have  her  love  giv'n  to  another  man ! 

What  though,  forsooth,  she  love  some  poor  soul  here, 

Or  he  for  her  the  tender  passion  feel  ? 
Such  loves  were  evanescent — I  '11  not  fear — 

Our  bonds  surpass  eternal  hooks  of  steel ! 
And  naught  that  may  o'ertake  her,  e'en  disgrace, 

With  all  its  whispered,  scathing,  venom  sting, 
Shall  change  my  heart,  or  turn  from  her  my  face, 

Or  evil  thought  of  her  to  me  e'er  bring. 


59 


AD-EM-NEL-LA. 

Yea,  though  she 's  made  an  outcast  among  men, 

Whom  women  draw  their  skirts  aside  to  pass, 
I  '11  follow  her  e'en  to  the  Devil's  Den, 

And  rescue  my  love-mate  from  him  at  last ; 
For  she  and  I  are  one — souls  of  one  Soul — 

Our  souls  in  AD-EM-NEL-LA  are  combined ; 
Together,  while  eternal  cycles  roll,11 

We  '11  dwell,  and  fill  the  plan  of  Divine  Mind. 


XVII. — THE  LOVERS  TRANSPORTED  TO  HEAVEN. 

The  preacher's  audience  was  in  command 

On  his  last  night,  as  if  enwrapt  in  chains, 
He  held  it  with  a  dextrous,  solid  hand, 

And  carried  it  away  to  oth'r  domains. 
He  took  us  up  into  the  realms  above,12 

Where  worlds  were  spread  about  us  in  array ; 
While  I  still  searched  her  deep  black  eyes  for  love, 

And  saw  their  lashes  droop,  them  fade  away. 
He  laid  us  on  a  cloud  up  in  the  skies ; 

Her  precious  head  was  resting  on  my  breast, 
We  were  still  gazing  in  each  other's  eyes, 

And  all  was  peace,  and  quietude,  and  rest. 

We,  from  that  bill'wy  cloud,  were  looking  out, 
And  saw  a  wide  sea  of  resplendent  glass, 

Translucent,  iridescent  all  about; 

And,  here  and  there,  we  saw  angels  flit  past. 


60 


TRANSPORTED  TO  HEAVEN. 

The  firmament  of  glass  extended  far — 

Far  out  beyond  where  heaven's  bow  bends  down — 
Its  brilliancy  and  beauty  none  could  mar, 

And  orange  and  purple  seemed  most  to  abound. 
Then,  from  infinite  distance,  worlds  came  out 

Like  stars  sometimes  appear,  with  shimm'ring 

blink, 
And  from  those  worlds  we  heard  redemption's  shout — 

'Twas  sinners  being  rescued  from  the  brink. 
My  hand  was  toying  with  her  pretty  hair, 

Her  sweet  lips,  then,  to  me,  were  nectar's  cup, 
Nous  etions  le  plus  heureux,  lying  there — 

The  "Music  of  the  Spheres"  was  starting  up ; 
Reverberations  through  the  skies  then  broke — 

Her  eyelash  held  on  it  a  little  tear — 
The  symphonies  of  Worlds'  Ecstatic  Stroke 

In  one  glad  anthem  sounded  far  and  near ; 
The  preacher's  peroration  was  mixed  in, 

His  voice  was  leading  with  soft  alto  note ; 
Yet  louder  than  all  Hell's  eternal  din, 

The  Worlds'  Great  Tympanum  the  music  smote; 
And  louder  than  all  this,  and  yet  still  higher, 

There  was  a  note  which  thrilled  me  far  above : 
It  was  her  heaving  breast,  in  mad  desire — 

'Twas  begging  me  to  give  her  yet  more  love ! 

And  then  the  the  earthly  audience  transformed 

Into  an  iridescent  orchestra, 
And  souls  came  out  from  every  world,  new  born, 

It  was  All-Worlds'  Emancipation  Day. 
And  with  my  eyes  of  gray  I  gazed  away 

Down  into  her  blue-blacks,  as  they  appealed ; 
It  was  the  forces  of  the  "Blue  and  Gray" 

Arrayed  in  contest  on  Love's  battle-field. 


61 


AD-EM-NEL-LA. 

And  as  the  strains  of  music,  sweeter  still 

Than  all  the  glad'ning  symphonies  of  Earth, 
Resounded  from  those  other  worlds  to  thrill 

Those  blood-washed  souls  now  filled  by  that  new 

birth, 
More  angels  still  came  out  from  stars  unknown, 

In  glad  acclaim  saluting  redeemed  man ; 
And  all  the  Universe,  e'en  God's  great  throne, 

Was  throbbing,  trembling  like  a  great  organ ; 
Across  the  heavens,  like  a  bow,  there  spanned13 

A  music  staff  of  j asperated  gold, 
Along  the  staff  there  ran  the  Master's  hand, 

To  point  out  notes,  the  music-sheets  unfold. 
It  was  an  Eisteddfod  from  every  sphere, 

Uranus,  Jupiter,  Mars,  all  the  rest ; 
Echoing  music  came  from  everywhere, 

It  was  an  universal  technique  test. 

The  choir,  perhaps  in  Mars,  would  sing  one  bar, 

The  Pleiades  strike  in  with  choir  or  band, 
The  refrain  then  perhaps  from  hot  Dog-star — 

While  she  smiled  on  and  still  held  to  my  hand. 
Their  voices'  compass  was  infinitude, 

They  "heavy-pedaled"  with  the  thunder's  tone ; 
We  were  with  proper  hearing  powers  endued ; 

Each  world  attuned  its  thunder  to  its  zone.14 

The  music  wafted  us  up  to  the  throne, 

Our  Conclave  was  in  session  on  that  day ; 

We  entered  in  to  mingle  with  our  own, 

And  our  old  friends  a  friendly  visit  pay. 


62 


AD-EM-NEL-LA. 


XVIII. — THE;  HEAVENLY  MARRIAGE. 

The  Conclave's  High  Priest  married  us  that  day, 

All  elements  of  our  Soul  were  combined — 
The  session  had  become  a  holiday, 

Somewhat  like  a  carousal  'mong  mankind ; 
We  had  a  hundred  bridesmaids,  all  arrayed 

In  creations  not  yet  dreamed  of  by  "Worth" ; 
She  wore  the  finest  trousseau  ever  made, 

No  gowns  so  thin  can  e'er  be  seen  on  Earth ; 
Our  bridesmen  were  the  Conclave's  select  set, 

All  revel-rounders,  paladins  la  mode; 
We  made  of  it  the  grandest  wedding  yet, 

In  palaces  Elysian  we  tangoed. 
Here  is  a  list  of  guests,  from  which  you  '11  see 

The  names  of  only  those  most  recherche 
Were:     Sir-ub-ba-bull,  Wa-lah,  Six-times-three, 

Sab-bo-ni,  Shab-bu-lum,  Xi-Xon,  Tu-bay; 

O,  Gu-ba-la-o-um,  Adown-a-ram, 

Hy-rum  G.  Biff,  Lii-bur-tees,  Let-nay-ii ; 

Siaa-sus-zaza-ra-sii,  Shab-ii-ran, 

Ha-her-shal-ahl-hash,  Sheth-shar-boz-nai ; 

Sa-do-nal,  Bib-lem,  He-bel,  Sha-shush-shar, 
Hen-dy-ah,  Hen-dake,  Sabod-zabod-done ; 

Stole-skin,  Re-vaugh,  Haul-kol,  Re-han,  Hu-har; 
And  ceremonial  master  Chaw-raw-bone. 


AD-EM-NEL-LA. 

The  Conclave's  wedding-feast  was  le  plus  grand, 
But  all  proceedings  there  we  dare  not  tell ; 

I  long,  again  in  them,  to  take  a  hand ; 

From  Man  they  are  a  secret  guarded  well. 

We  were  remanded  then  to  earthly  life, 

That  the  celestial  marriage  be  confirmed, 

That  we  take  on  the  name  "husband  and  wife" — 
Then  that  ineffable  Conclave  adjourned. 


XIX. — HER  EUROPEAN  TRIP. 

The  vision  past,  the  heav'nly  marriage  o'er, 

I  learned,  next  day,  that  she  was  to  be  sent 
Across  the  ocean  to  a  foreign  shore, 

And  placed  in  college,  or  perhaps  convent. 
Old  Rumor  did  not  know  the  reason  why 

Was  made  this  change  so  sudden  and  complete, 
Unless  some  craze  had  seized  her  family, 

Or  it  had  been  the  work  of  old  Discreet. 
I  waited  on  old  Rumor  several  days, 

And  courted  her  to  find  out  all,  perchance, 
That  might  leak  out  in  divers,  sundry  ways, 

Until  I  learned  that  she  was  going  to  France. 
She  was  to  take  a  college  course  in  part ; 

A  year  in  dress-technique  was  to  be  spent, 
Some  four  years  in  the  languages  and  art, 

And  then  she  'd  travel  'bout  the  Continent. 


64 


HER  EUROPEAN  TRIP. 

How  I  survived  that  news — its  awful  shock, 

Can  never  be  expressed,  except  in  part ; 
Attempt  to  paint  its  bale  is  but  to  mock 

That  fulminating  sorrow  in  my  heart. 
Though  I  rejoiced  that  she  could  well  afford 

To  go  and  drink  from  Learning's  fountain-head, 
Where  'cumulated  centuries  had  stored 

The  wisdom  of  the  living  and  the  dead, 
On  Honor's  proud  escutcheon  write  her  name, 

The  citadels  of  Wisdom's  gods  assail, 
And  promenade  historic  halls  of  fame 

With  Mmes.  "Sand,"  SeVigne"  and  de  Stael, 
I  felt  that  I  should  never  see  her  more, 

Our  sun  was  set  'mid  clouds  of  bitter  gloom, 
Discreet  was  op'ning  wide  for  her  Death's  door, 

Her  trip  to  Europe  was  but  to  the  tomb ! 

The  day  she  took  the  train  to  go  away, 

Her  friends  had  gathered  there  to  shake  her  hand, 
And  say  to  her :    "God  speed  the  happy  day 

When  you  shall  come  back  to,  your  native  land." 
Her  father,  she  and  select  friends,  a  few, 

Were  there  before  the  train  was  due  to  start, 
To  check  the  baggage,  do  what  was  to  do, 

And  I  was  there  with  wounded,  broken  heart. 

Perhaps  you  've  waited  for  a  train  to  start 

That  was  to  bear  away  your  brother — friend, 
And  felt  that  dull  suspense  before  you  part, 

In  which  all  conversation  seems  to  end ; 
That  lull  in  which  there  's  nothing  left  to  say, 

That  moment  when  youi;  feelings  seem  too  deep, 
When  you.  from  all.  would  rather  steal  away 

To  privacy  where  Modesty  might  weep. 


AD-EM-NEL-LA. 

Where  you  may  hold  his  hand  in  friendly  grip, 

Impress  a  kiss  upon  his  tear-stained  cheeks, 
Ambrosial  drafts  from  Friendship's  calix  sip, 

And  feel  that  eloquence  that  silence  speaksl 
If  so,  you  've  had  a  faint  taste  of  that  day. 

You  hoped,  howe'er,  you  'd  see  your  friend  again, 
'Twas  only  friend  or  kinsman  going  away ; 

She  's  more  than  all  this  world — friends,  kith  and 
kin  !15 

I  could  not  speak  to  her,  but  I  could  look, 

I  gazed  upon  her  face  and  marked  it  well, 
It  seemed  I  could  not  that  dread  ordeal  brook, 

But  yet  I  stood  an  inert  sentinel. 
And  when  her  friends  had  bidden  her  good-bye, 

And  that  lugubrious  lull  hung  like  a  pall, 
I  got  a  chance  to  gaze  into  her  eye, 

And  we,  together,  drank  that  cup  of  gall ! 
We  both  held  back  our  tears — strove  to  be  brave, 

We  steeled  ourselves,  our  feelings  to  defy ; 
It  seemed  we  stood  there  by  her  open  grave, 

Her  trunk  the  coffin  in  which  she  must  lie ! 

I  thought  how  much  more  dear  was  she  to  me 

Than  all  the  world  beside ;  how  Heaven  sends 
Such  ties;  and  yet  we  dared,  most  stupidly, 

Not  let  the  world  know  we  were  even  friends. 
When  she  shook  hands  with  all  her  friends  but  me, 

And  I  stood  there  unrecognized,  alone, 
An  outcast,  stigmatized,  in  infamy, 

It  was  the  saddest  day  I  'd  ever  known. 


66 


HER  EUROPEAN  TRIP. 

Then  she  entrained  and  sat  where  she  could  see, 

And,  as  the  train  moved  out,  she  caught  my  eye, 
And,  smote  as  by  some  Thespian  phantasy, 

The  tears  burst  from  her  eyes — she  had  to  cry. 
And  in  that  vast  concourse  all  eyes  were  dry, 

No  tear  was  shed  except  by  her  and  me. 
How  little  heeds  the  world  as  we  pass  by, 

How  sacred  love,  when  true  love  's  found,  should 
be! 

Three  days  of  waiting,  anxious,  critical, 

A  message  was  received  that  told  the  tale ; 
They  'd  wirelessed  from  a  New  York  hospital : 

"Your  daughter  's  here — not  booked — too  sick  to 

sail." 
That  message  was,  to  me,  ten  wires  in  one — 

Projectile  larger,  than  its  mortar's  bore — 
'Twas  like  a  German  minenwurfer  gun  ; 

It  told  me  that  her  Paris  trip  was  o'er; 
It  told  me  she  could  not  leave  me  so  far, 

'Twould  not  be  long  till  she  and  I  would  meet, 
Her  love  for  me  the  aegis  Gibraltar — 

'Twas  but  another  ruse  to  fool  Discreet. 
It  told  me  she,  at  last,  had  had  her  way, 

That  Love  was  in  the  race,  would  reach  the  goal  ; 
Oh,  how  it  gladdened  me,  and  filled,  that  day, 

The  sacred  penetralia  of  my  soul ! 


XX. — TURMOILS  OF  THE  PROSAIC  WORLD. 

Her  French  trip  o'er,  one  day  I  took  my  place 

Upon  the  street  where  she  most  often  goes ; 
Her  brother  stopped  and  struck  me  in  the  face, 
Then  drew  a  long  dirk  knife  from  'neath  his 
clothes. 

67 


TURMOILS  OF  THIS  PROSAIC  WO 

He  rushed  upon  me,  with  the  knife,  and  struck, 

But,  in  some  way,  I  snatched  it  from  his  hand;16 
It  happened  in  an  instant,  was  pure  luck, 

iFor  he  's,  in  point  of  strength,  the  better  man. 
When  we  were  pulled  apart,  and  he  'd  sunk  down,17 

He  seemed  to  be  in  his  last  gasps  for  life, 
His  blood  was  running  out  upon  the  ground  ;18 

There,  in  my  hand,  they  saw  the  bloody  knife ! 

For  several  days  the  prejudice  ran  high, 

The  facts  suppressed,  deleted  inch  by  inch  ;19 
At  night  small  squads  of  strange  men  hovered  nigh, 

They  wanted  me  turned  over  to  "Judge  Lynch." 
One  night  the  mob  sought  me  with  fire  and  smoke — 

They  failed  to  find  me,  but  they  burned  my 

home  ;20 
It  was  for  them,  or  me,  a  lucky  stroke 

That  I,  that  night,  had  gone  to  parts  unknown. 

When  court  came  on,  the  lawyers  were  arrayed 

On  both  sides  of  the  case — lined  up  in  tiers ; 
"Attempt  to  murder"  was  the  charge  they  made, 

The  punishment  for  which  was  twenty  years. 
Her  brother  swore  that  I  jerked  out  a  knife 

And  cut  him  several  times  without  a  cause, 
And  that  he  surely  would  have  lost  his  life 

Had  not  the  crowd  rescued  him  from  Death's 

jaws ; 
The  others  swore  that  we  were  interlocked, 

The  first  they  noticed,  and  were  "milling  'round" ; 
That  they  pulled  us  apart,  and  were  then  shocked 

To  see  his  bloody  clothes,  as  he  sank  down. 


68 


AD-EM-NEL-LA 

She  sat  beside  her  brother  through  the  trial, 

She  never  'lowed  me,  once,  to  catch  her  eye.21 
There  is  no  punishment  like  her  denial ; 

I  cared  not  whether  I  might  live  or  die ! 
No  "motive"  for  the  crime  was  ever  shown, 

I  would  not  go  upon  the  stand  and  swear,22 
I  would  not  let  their  lawyers,  nor  my  own, 

Know  aught  of  our  sweet,  secret  love-affair.23 

Their  lawyers  whispered,  several  times,  aloud, 

As  they  leaned  o'er  the  tables  to  confer, 
Until  they  had  the  jury  and  the  crowd 

Believe  it  grew  from  my  insulting  her. 
One  lawyer  said,  in  arguing  their  case : 

"I  shall  defend  the  woman  of  our  land, 
I  dare  to  tell  the  criminal  to  his  face 

That  he  who  can't  defend  her  is  no  man, 
And  though  they  cut  and  stab  me  to  the  heart, 

They  can,  by  that,  take  from  me  only  life ; 
I  swear  that  I  shall  ever  take  her  oart — 

They  shall  not  smirch  my  sister,  nor  my  wife !" 

When  all  the  lawyers24  had  poured  out  their  flood 

Of  bosh,  and  had  the  jury  raging — wild, 
The  audience  was  clam'ring  for  my  blood — 

Cries  from  the  crowd  came  up :     'The  Pen 's  too 

mild!"** 
Then  she  arose  and  hurried  to  my  side  ;25 

She  held  my  hand,  our  love-pact  to  renew ; 
She  looked  the  jury  in  the  face  and  cried : 

"When  you  send  him  away,  you  'II  send  me  too!" 


69 


TURMOILS  OF  THIS  WICKED  WORLD. 

"I  '11  wear  the  prison  stripes — work  by  his  side, 

His  twenty  years  of  punishment  I  '11  share ; 
And  when  his  time  is  served,  I  '11  be  his  BRIDE — 

God  knows  he  's  innocent,  and  He  '11  be  there. 
My  brother  carried  this  knife  every  day — 

He  carried  it  to  kill  the  man  I  love ; 
I  begged  him,  prayed  with  him  that  he  might  stay 

His  hand,  or  it  be  parried  from  Above  ; 
I  saw  my  brother  strike  him  the  first  blow, 

I  saw  him  draw  the  knife  and  plunge  it,  and 
I  watched  them  from  my  window,  and  I  know — 

I  saw  the  knife  snatched  from  my  brother's  hand." 

The  crowd  then  changed  its  attitude,  and  cheered,26 
Congratulations  came  e'en  from  Discreet, 

Such  deafening  shouts  were  scarcely  ever  heard ; 
The  jury  said,  "Not  guilty!"27  from  its  seat. 

Somebody  "made  a  motion"  that  we  wed, 

The  audience  "went  crazy"  to  a  man ; 
The  ceremonial  by  the  judge  was  read, 

Her  brother  kissed  my  WIFE,  and  shook  my  hand! 
And  as  I  kissed  her  my  first  time  she  said : 

"We  speak  now,  dear,  for  our  first  time  in  life; 
A  PANTOMIMIC  COURTSHIP  till  we  're  wed — 

A  most  romantic  mode  to  win  a  wife." 


And,  as  our  bridal  train  was  "pulling  out," 

She  caught  a  parting  glance  of  old  Discreet, 

And,  as  she  hugged  my  neck,  they  heard  her  shout : 
"Oh,  Mr.  AD-EM-NEL-I,A,  your 're  so  sweet!" 


70 


AD-EM-NEL-LA. 

Next  day,  while  still  aboard  our  bridal  train, 

(We  had  a  modern  bride's  coach,  all  complete^) 
There  came,  of  telegrams,  a  constant  rain 

From  our  old  friends,  as  well  as  old  Discreet. 
They  wired  congratulations,  pardon  free, 

They  wired  me  entree  to  high  social  rank ; 
The  bank  directors  wired,  and  tendered  me 

The  presidency  of  her  brother's  bank! 


XXL — ADDENDUM. 

Twelve  months  from  that  eventful,  crucial  day, 
Months  of  sweet,  consummated  love  replete, 

That  happy,  care-free  girl  had  had  her  way — 
Her  fortune  had  put  me  on  Easy  Street!29 

The  End  of  Story. 


Qu'il  eut  ete. 

If  this  had  been  a  tale  of  modern  day, 

It  would,  of  course,  not  yet  have  been  complete ; 
But,  in  the  last  line,  would  have  had  to  say : 

"She  named  our  BABY  BOY  for  old  Discreet." 


"MADE  IN  THE  U.  S.  A." 


72 


SHORT  POEMS. 


73 


MY  MOTHER'S  INITIAL  PRAYER. 

NOTE. — Like  many  of  the  old-fashioned  mothers 
in  the  dear  old  mountain  valleys  of  East  Tennessee,  in 
the  long-ago,  my  mother  had  a  different  prayer  for  each 
of  her  numerous  children.  She  composed  a  set  prayer 
for  each  child,  made  up  of  sentences  whose  initial  let 
ters  represented  the  letters  of  the  given  child's  name, 
so  that  when  she  wished  to  pray  for  one  of  the  chil 
dren,  she  had  to  think  only  of  the  letters  in  his  name, 
and  his  prayer  would  come  easily  to  her  memory. 
Having  so  many  children,  there  would  have  been, 
otherwise,  great  confusion. 

These  prayers  were  called  the  children's  "lines," 
and  each  child  knew  its  "lines."  Sometimes  a  bright 
child  could  repeat  the  "lines"  of  all  the  children  of  the 
family. 

We  were  taught  to  repeat  our  "lines"  over  and 
over  (like  incantations),  to  ward  off  the  tempter,  and 
save  us  harmless  from  sin,  when  under  temptation. 

Most  of  the  children's  "lines"  used  in  those  days 
were  pretty  well  sprinkled  with  invocations  relative  to 
the  parent's  duty  not  to  "spare  the  rod."  My  mother 
never  spared  it,  as  I  can  testify  "with  truth."  The 
following  are  the  "lines"  she  made  and  used  for  me. 

Those  old-fashioned  mothers  believed  in  living, 

before  their  children,  the  life  they  would  inculcate, 

rather  than  telling  them  how  to  live  and  what  to  be. 

I  am  thankful  for  the  old-fashioned  mothers,  their 

old-fashioned  prayers,  and  their  old-fashioned  lives. 

ALLENHURST. 


74 


MY  MOTHER'S  INITIAL  PRAYER. 

A  LMIGHTY  FATHER,  Thou  to  me  hast  sent 
**     This  precious  boy  from  Thy  Infinite  Womb, 

T    OANED  him  to  me,  as  Thou  the  talents  lent, 
And  made  me  answerable  for  his  doom ! 

T    ET  not  Thy  weak  handmaiden  fluster  Thee, 
Nor  fail  to  execute  Thy  holy  trust ; 

lp  'EN  as  my  love  for  him,  be  Thine  for  me, 
Yet  hold  me  to  my  duty  as  Thou  must — 

"^  OR  let  me,  by  the  serpent,  be  beguiled 

To  "spare  the  rod"  and  thereby  "spoil  the  child." 

ILJ  ELP  me  to  teach  him,  as  Thou  me  hast  taught, 
Through  kindly  love — yea,  even  punishment ; 

T  T  PHOLD  and  strengthen  me  that  I,  in  naught, 
May  shirk  my  duty,  or  it  circumvent. 

O  EVEAL  Thyself  to  him  through  my  lived  life, 

Made  strong  and  pure  as  Thou  wouldst  have 
him  be ; 

C  AVE  me  from  guile  and  sinfulness  so  rife, 

Since  he  must  be  whate'er  Thou  makest  me. 

'TPO  me  ne'er  let  him  say,  with  truth,  O  God, 

I  spoiled  the  child  by  having  spared  the  rod. 


75 


LA  MENTIRA. 

NOTE. — This  poem  was  written  by  the  author  for 
the  Spanish  papers,  and  published  in  La  Prensa  of 
San  Antonio,  Texas,  the  leading  Spanish  newspaper 
in  the  United  States,  in  the  issue  of  March  the  I4th, 
1915,  under  the  following  complimentary  editorial : 

"MUSA  AMERICANA. 

"Un  antiguo  suscritor  de  La  Prensa,  norte-amer- 
icano  de  nacionalidad,  pero  que  gusta  de  cultivar  el 
idioma  de  Cervantes,  ha  escrito,  en  espanol,  los  versos 
que  publicamos  a  continuation  y  que  le  fueron  inspir- 
idos  por  la  lectura  de  un  bello  articulo  de  Amado 
Nervo,  que  aparecio  hace  dias  en  las  columnas  de  este 
diario. 

"La  composicion  de  que  se  trata  puede  tener  de- 
fectos  a  los  ojos  de  la  critica ;  pero  nosotros  estimamos 
que  por  tratarse  de  un  extranjero,  sincere  admirador 
de  nuestro  idioma,  el  esfuerzo  es  muy  meritorio  y  muy 
digno  de  estimulo  y  aplauso. 

"He  aqui  la  composicion  a  que  nos  referimos :" 


76 


LA  MENTIRA. 

Oh  Falsedad !     Los  que  te  aman  creen 
Que  amarte  constituye  una  ventura ! 

La  Verdad  es  objeto  de  desden 

Cuando  no  es  expresion  de  la  hermosura. 

Pari  mi  lo  que  es  falso,  pero  bello 

Halaga  mis  muy  anhelos ; 
Una  chispa  de  luz,  que  es  un  destello 

De  la  enorme  mentira  de  los  cielos, 
Es  mas  grata  a  mi  espiritu  sensible 

Que  la  Verdad  desnuda  e  incognocible. 

El  disco  nacarado  de  la  luna, 

El  azul  sin  igual  del  firmamento, 

Mentiras  son :     Amor,  Placer,  Fortuna, 
Desangano,  Dolor  y  Sufrimiento, 

No  arrancarian  acordes  a  la  lira 

Si  no  fueran  trasuntos  de  Mentira. 

Si  no  hubiera  Mentira,  si  no  hubiera 
Esa  ilusion  que  lo  trasforma  todo, 

El  amor  de  los  sexos  no  existiera, 
iNi  fuera  dable  combinar  el  modo 

De  dar  al  Arte  la  expresion  que  plugo 
Al  genio  sin  igual  de  Victor  Hugo. 

(Over.) 


77 


LA  MENTIRA.— Cont. 

Nada  existe  en  la  vida  que  no  sea 

Dulce  ilusion  del  corazon  humano ; 
Todo  lo  que  sugiera  alguna  idea, 

Todo  lo  que  se  esconde  en  el  arcano, 
Todo  lo  que  fecunda  y  lo  que  crea 

En  el  Cosmos  del  Genio  soberano, 
Es  grosero  y  trivial,  si  no  inspira 

En  la  dulce  ilusion  de  la  Mentira. 


ALLEN  HURST. 


POOR  LEDA  GOODBIN. 

The  chums  of  proud  Fred  Grant  had  left  for  home, 

And  Fred  was  chasing  a  wild-turkey  flock 
Across  a  thickly  brambled  wood,  when  he, 

Unwittingly,  fell  o'er  a  large  cliff-rock. 
Fair  Leda  Goodbin  passing,  in  her  car, 

Along  the  road  which  ran  near  the  cascade, 
Was  frightened  by  the  young  man's  piteous  groans, 

And  hastened  to  his  side  to  give  him  aid. 

The  man,  unconscious  when  she  reached  his  side, 

Was  murm'ring  wildly,  as  if  in  a  dream; 
The  brave  girl,  equal  to  the  arduous  task, 

Lifted  and  dragged  him  into  her  machine. 
She  took  him  to  her  home — her  father's  house, 

Stood  by  his  bedside — left  him  ne'er  alone — 
She  nursed  him  back  to  consciousness  and  health, 

Till  he  was  well  enough  to  be  sent  home. 

Before  he  left  he  'd  gazed  into  her  eyes, 

And  read  a  secret  there,  sacred,  hoar-grown ; 
And  she,  responsive  to  the  sacred  law, 

Had,  likewise,  read  the  heart  that  knew  her  own. 
And  though  it  was  their  first  taste  of  true  love, 

And  opportunities  to  speak  but  few, 
Clandestinely  purloined  in  "ma's"  absence, 

No  words  were  necessary — they  both  knew. 

(Over.) 


79 


POOR  LEDA  GOODBIN.— Cont. 

For  when  the  destined  man  and  woman  meet, 

The  secret  needs  no  language  to  unfold, 
Except  that  universal  tongue  all  read — 

That  sacred,  living  language  of  the  Soul. 
Fate  brings  to  us  that  boon,  that  First  Love  Dream, 

Naught  in  this  world  so  sweet  has  e'er  been  known, 
Oh,  how  it  thrills  one's  heart  to  feel,  to  know: 

The  heart  one  craves  likewise  longs  for  one's  own ! 

Although  it  was  not  mentioned,  he  well  knew, 

When  last  he  pressed  her  hand  to  go  away, 
Whatever  might  befall,  if  life  remained, 

He  'd  come  to  claim  her  as  his  wife  some  day. 
And  she,  likewise,  was  conscious  of  his  love, 

It  thrilled  her  whole  soul  when  she  touched  his 

hand; 
She  knew  that,  whether  he  came  back  or  not, 

This  world  would  hold,  for  her,  no  other  man. 


Vacation  past,  Fred  was  in  school  once  more, 

And  working  hard,  "with  all  his  might  and  main," 
That  he  might  finish  up  his  course  that  term. 

And  go  to  seek  his  "dear  cliff-girl"  again. 
And,  some  weeks  later,  Leda,  also,  went 

Away  to  college  in  another  State ; 
(Her  sister  Dell  was  there  when  Fred  got  hurt,) 

And  this  was  Leda's  year  to  graduate. 

(Over.} 


80 


POOR  LEDA  GOODBIN.— Cont. 

And  those  two  lovers,  though  far,  far  apart, 

Together  dwelt  in  spirit  night  and  day, 
And  Fancy's  eye  and  Hope's  sweet  music  held 

Love's  spirit-dream  in  glad,  ecstatic  sway. 
He  thought  of  her  who  'd  given  back  his  life, 

And  with  his  life  her  love,  the  double  gift ; 
Her  thought  dwelt  on  that  bloodless  face  of  him 

Whom  she  found  lying  dead  at  the  big  cliff! 

He  did  not  know  that  Leda  was  in  school, 

But  she  was  hustling  to  keep  up  with  Fred ; 

While  making  her  class-dress  she  vowed  that  she 
Would  wear  it  both  to  graduate  and  wed. 


His  college  term  closed  first,  he  hurried  back 
To  see  his  "Lita" — his  diploma  show ; 

He  met  her  mother  at  the  gate,  who  said : 

"My  daughter  is  quite  sick — is  very  low." 

Old  Mrs.  Goodbin  had  forgotten  him, 

Until  he  spoke  of  that  cliff  incident ; 
He  was  admitted,  then,  to  see  "the  girl," 

Who  was  "unconscious  now,  and  almost  spent." 
Oh,  how  it  hurt  him  when  he  saw  the  change 

In  Leda  (as  he  thought)  in  one  short  year! 
How  pitiable  when  that  poor  boy  bent 

To  whisper  love  into  her  deadened  ear ! 

Fate  must  have  veiled  her  face  for  sheer  remorse, 
(For  Fate  must  know  the  future  and  the  past.) 

When  poor  Dell  answered  him,  unconsciously : 

"My  Knight !  my  Knight  has  come  to  me  at  last !" 

(Over.} 
81 


POOR  LEDA  GOODBIN.— Con/. 

And  put  her  weak,  emaciated  arms 

About  that  poor  boy's  stalwart,  trembling  frame, 
And  mumbled  with  her  heavy,  panting  breath : 

"My  Knight !  my  Knight  shall  ne'er  leave  me 


again 


He  volunteered  to  take  the  mother's  place, 

And  help  to  rest  her  till  the  girl  got  well ; 
He  said  he  never,  in  life,  would  forget 

How  they  all  treated  him  the  time  he  fell. 
He  stood  beside  Dell's  sick-bed  day  and  night, 

And  courted  her  and  nursed  her  back  to  life, 
And  made  her  promise  that,  when  she  got  well, 

She  'd  be  his  "own  dear,  precious,  little  wife.' 


As  soon  as  she  could  walk  about  the  floor, 

He  argued  they  should  marry  while  'twas  cool ; 
She  promised  she  would  marry  him  "next  week," 

Her  "sister  would  be  home,  by  then,  from  school." 
And  Leda  came  while  Fred  was  gone  to  town, 

As  he  came  back  he  met  her  face  to  face; 
She  stood  beside  the  gate,  expectantly, 

And  seemed  the  only  one  about  the  place. 

They  stood  and  looked  into  each  other's  eyes — 

How  long?     Oh !  ask  me  not ;  Love  knows  not 

Time. 
It  was  a  scene  pathetic,  sad,  forlorn ; 

It  was  romantic — oh,  it  was  sublime ! 
She  cried  aloud,  she  fell  into  his  arms, 

He  pressed  her  to  his  heart  without  dismay ; 
And  then,  as  if  they  'd  just  thought  what  they  'd  done, 

He  loosed  her  and  she  ran  quickly  away. 

(Over.) 
82 


POOR  LEDA  GOODBIN.— Cont. 

Fred  sat  in  the  pergola  all  alone 

Xlntil  a  very  late  hour  in  the  night, 
Was  thinking,  pond'ring  it  o'er,  in  his  mind, 

How  he  had  gotten  into  such  a  plight. 
He  had  an  aunt  Dell  they  called  "Dellita," 

The  "ita"  meaning  "little,"  "pretty,'"  "well" ; 
And  he  remembered  that  he  'd  thought  of  her 

When  Mrs.  Goodbin  called  her  daughter  "Dell." 

He  'd  thought,  instead  of  saying  "Dellita," 

They  'd  simply  used  the  suffix  to  her  name ; 
And  thus  he  never  had  suspected  but 

That  Dell  and  "Lita"  (Leda)  were  the  same. 
Names  of  endearment,  like  this  one,  are  used 

In  most  our  homes — he  no  attention  paid ; 
He  did  not  e'en  suspect  there  were  two  girls, 

Till  after  the  engagement  had  been  made ! 

Late  in  the  night  he  went  into  his  room, 

He  past  by  Leda's  door — she  had  not  slept ; 
He  sat  beside  his  bed  for  hours,  alone — 

In  Contemplation's  grasp  the  vigil  kept. 
'Twas  nearly  morning,  and  the  moon  was  low, 

He  saw  her  standing  at  his  door  still  dressed ; 
He  kneeled,  in  reverence,  there  by  her  side, 

And  pressed  his  aching  head  against  her  breast. 

(Over.) 


POOR  LEDA  GOODBIN.— Cont. 

She  stroked  his  hair — gave  him  that  tender  touch 

No  other  woman  in  this  world  can  give ; 
They  then  arose  and  went  out  to  the  grounds. 

She  said :     "  'Tis  June — how  sweet  it  is  to  live !" 
And  then  they  walked  among  the  flowers  and  talked. 

He  argued  they  must  flee — flee  far  away ; 
That  they  had  no  more  time  to  waste  in  talk, 

'Twas  now  the  time  to  act — 'twas  almost  day. 

(She:) 

"We  must  not  go — it  will  not,  will  not  do ; 

'Twould  kill  poor  Dell  to  have  you  leave  her  now. 
She  's  told  me  everything — she  loves  you  too ; 

You  must  not  go ;  oh,  you  must  keep  your  vow ! 
Poor  w.oman  must  delete  that  sad  mistake — 

Its  penalty  be  paid — by  her,  by  me. 
Your  promise  binds  you,  whatsoe'er  you  would ; 

Oh,  cruel,  cruel  Fate !  'tis  her  decree." 

(He:) 

"It  is  not  Fate's  decree,  it  is  Mistake's ; 

If  it  were  Fate's,  I  could  not,  would  not  shirk. 
There  is  not  one  sole  element  of  wrong, 

(Mistake,  by  law,  e'er  vitiates  its  work.) 
If  either  you  or  she  must  pay  the  debt, 

H,et  her,  sweetheart ;  she  took  the  greater  part. 
I  can  not,  shall  not,  dare  not  give  you  up, 

You  are  my  complement — your  heart,  my  heart." 

(Over.) 


84 


POOR  LEDA  GOODBIN.— Con/. 

(She:) 

"But  Dell  loves  me — has  ever  found  me  true ; 

Can  I  betray  her  now — she  it  condone? 
Oh,  it  would  taint  our  children's  children's  blood, 

They  'd  bear  the  curse  a  hundred  years  to  come !" 

(He:} 

"Think  not  of  Dell,  you  must  first  save  yourself, 

For  Nature's  law,  in  wisdom,  made  that  plan ; 
You  love  me  more  than  she,  I  you  than  her — 

You  were  my  own  before  the  world  began ! 
I  loved  her  not,  'twas  love  for  you  through  her — 

Disease's  cruel  veil  obscured  my  view ; 
Her  body,  the  frail  casket,  I  ignored, 

It  was  the  soul  I  sought — I  thought  'twas  you. 
When  she  has  known  the  depth  of  love  you  bear, 

Her  love  will  fly  away — will  set  her  free ; 
She  '11  be  our  happy,  care-free  sister  then, 

She  '11  recognize,  she  '11  bow  to  Fate's  decree." 

And  thus  he  urged,  and  thus  she  him  refused. 

She  said  :     "We  must  go  in ;  'tis  almost  day." 
She  kissed  his  tears  away,  and  stroked  his  brow, 

And  said  :     "Good-bye,  my  love ;  good-bye  for 
aye!" 


Poor  Fred  then  went  to  bed,  and  morning  came ; 

Her  bed  had  not  been  touched,  nor  was  she  found. 
That  day  thev  searched  down  in  the  river-bed — 

Poor  little,  faithful  Leda  had  been  drowned! 


THE  HAGUE'S  GREAT  PEACE  PALACE. 

The  Nations  built  their  great  Palladium  of  Peace 
sublime, 

Where  all  the  nations  of  the  earth  might  worship  at 
its  shrine, 

Where  each  might  lay  her  panoplies  of  war  on  funer 
al's  pyre, 

And  send  them  up  as  sweet  incense,  purged  in  its  holy 
fire; 

Where  arbitration  of  all  claims  and  questions  might  be 
made, 

And  nation  nation  meet  and  greet,  the  hand  of  War  be 
stayed ; 

All  armaments  be  cast  away,  War's  preparation  cease, 

And  Heaven  send  her  recompense  of  Universal  Peace ! 

Vain  hope.     The  law  of  constant  war — warfare  with 
out  surcease, 

Is  older  than  Mount  Sinai's  law  of  universal  peace ; 

It  is  the  law  by  which  Fate  must  Earth's  progeny 
transmit 

Down  through  the  ages  of  the  world — "Survival  of  the 
Fit"— 

And  though  the  river-bed  of  Meuse  be  filled  with 
blood,  forsooth. 

Ruthlessly  poured   out   from   the  veins   of   Europe's 
flower  and  youth, 

Earth  will  replace  each  warrior  slain  with  ten  who  are 
as  great, 

'Tis  the  Requital ;  Evolution's  Primal  Law  of  Fate ! 

(Over.} 


86 


THE  HAGUE'S  GREAT  PEACE  PALACE.— Cont. 

We  may  pervert  the  sacred  books,   false  inferences 

draw, 
We  do  but  mock  God's  wisdom  when  we  tamper  with 

His  law ; 
And  though  we  may  build  palaces  of  peace  in  every 

land, 
We  can  not  hold  back — can  not  stay  War's  ruthless, 

bloody  hand; 
For  every  stem  and  blade  of  grass,  its  rootlet,  bud,  and 

flower, 
And  every  bee,  and  bug,  and  worm,  and  man,  and 

corp'rate  power, 
From  weak  microbe,  to  great  World-power,  with  all 

its  brain  and  brawn, 
Is  crowded  to  its  limit — the  Eternal  War  is  on ! 

Had  we  the  power  to  modify  His  unchangeable  plan, 
We  'd  lose  the  Race,  because  of  our  solicitude  for  man ; 
Incentive  and  Endeavor,  both,  would  perish  in  a  day! 
All  Enterprise,  Exertion  cease,  all  Nations  would 

decay, 
All  fact'ries,  mines,  marts,  shops,  and  offices  would 

close,  and  then 
Would  Hunger  stalk  abroad,  to  fill  her  maw  with  idle 

men. 


EPILOGUE. 

Let 's  pray  for  vitalizing  war,   (let  peace  enthusiasts 

rave,) 
When  Greed  and  Exploitation  cease,  man  seeks  his 

Primal  Cave! 


OLD  HUERTA'S  GOT  TO  GO. 

We  have  a  sister,  neighbor, 

Now  in  war's  bloody  throe ; 
All  industry — all  labor 

Has  ceased  there  long-a-go, 

The  country's  homes  are  blighted, 
The  people  are  affrighted ; 
Oh  !  would  the  wrong  be  righted 
If  we  took  Mexico? 

Some  say :     "Let 's  send  our  soldier, 

Let 's  let  the  'khakis'  go ; 
They  're  anxious,  now,  to  shoulder 
Arms  for  the  foreign  foe — 

Let 's  let  them  go  and  fight  'er, 
Let 's  send  the  fire  to  blight  'er ; 
They  can  not  hope  to  right  'er, 
Let 's  invade  Mexico." 

"The  country  's  rich  as  'Croesus/ 

Above  ground  and  below, 
Too  much  eold  there  for  'greasers,' 
It  suits  the  brave  'gringo' — 

Now  is  the  time  to  jump  'er, 
Let 's  trump  'er,  plump  'er,  bump  'er, 
Let 's  glide  down  there  and  thump  'er, 
Let 's  scoop  Old  Mexico." 

{Over.) 


88 


OLD  HUERTA  'S  GOT  TO  GO.— Cont. 

But  w e  say  send  Carranza — 

(IV e  are:  I  and  Woodrow,) 
And  Villa,  they  '11  get  Huerta 

And  yank  him  out,  you  know — 

Let 's  let  them  go  and  punch  'im, 
They  '11  hunch  'im,  munch  'im,  crunch  'im ; 
Oh,  how  they  long  to  scrunch  'im ! 
Old  Huerta  knows  it 's  so. 

The  "A.  B.  C.  Alliance" 

We  fear  will  be  no  go, 
Because  of  his  defiance 

The  Right  can  have  no  show — 
Let 's  let  Carranza  bat  'im, 
Let 's  let  old  Villa  at  Jim ; 
They  're  waiting  now  to  spat  'im, 
Let 's  let  'em  go,  Woodrow. 

He  has  not  yet  saluted 

Our  flag,  when  we  said  so ; 
But  that  need  not  be  mooted, 

'Tis  Peace  we  want,  you  know — 
Let 's  send  Villa  to  snap  'im — 
He  '11  tap  'im,  flap  'im,  sap  'im, 
He  's  not  afraid  to  scrap  'im, 
Old  Huerta  's  got  too  slow. 

(Over.} 


89 


OLD  HUERTA  'S  GOT  TO  GO.— Cont. 

We  're  Mexico's  "big  brother," 
We  want  to  see  her  grow ; 
She  must  not  dance  another, 
With  Huerta,  in  tango — 

We  've  now  let  Fletcher  flout  'im, 
Let 's  clout  'im,  rout  'im,  scout  'im, 
Let 's  whip  the  stuffin'  out  'im ; 
Old  Huerta  's  got  to  go ! 


FLOWER  SEEDS. 

I  kissed  you  once — flower  seeds  were  sown 

In  my  heart's  garden-plot ; 

I  whispered  love  to  you,  my  own — 

Ah !  have  you,  yet,  forgot 

What  myriads  of  flowers  there  grew, 
Tended  with  thoughts  only  of  you  ? 


Is  there  not  grown  in  thy  heart's-plot, 
For  me,  one  wee  Forget-me-not? 


90 


MY  VISION. 

(As  seen  by  Allenhurst.) 

I  looked  and  saw  afloat  upon  the  surface  of  the  sea 

Of  human  fate,  and  human  hope,  and  human  destiny, 

The  silhouette  of  one  who  stood,  tall  as  the  bending 
sky, 

A  woman,  nude,  too  beautiful,  too  fair  for  human  eye. 

The  nations  of  the  earth  rushed  madly  after  her  the 
while, 

Enamored  of  her  beauty,  poise,  her  dignity  and  smile ; 

She  was  bedecked  with  ornaments,  diamonds  and  ru 
bies  rare, 

Her  name :     "Commercialism,"  on  a  jewel  in  her  hair. 

She  had  a  look/  of  greed,  exploit,  her  breath  was  like 
the  gall, 

She  showed  herself  the  courtesan,  and  flirted  with 
them  all. 

She  had  three  clutching,  bony  hands,  and  three  gigantic 

arms, 

She  poisoned  every  Nation,  every  victim  of  her  charms. 
She  carried  three  huge  flaming  torches,  each  enormous 

size, 
And  threw  their  glaring  lights  athwart  the  low'ring, 

Stygian  skies. 

(Over.} 


MY  VISION.— Cont. 

The  torches  were  "corruptions,"  and  she  held  one  in 

each  hand, 
And  waved  them,  like  enchantment  wands,  o'er  every 

sea  and  land. 
The  first  torch  was  designed  to  clutch  and  poison 

Patriotism ; 
The    second    torch    to    do    its    work    through    crass 

Fanaticism ; 
The  bane  for  Law  and  Statesmanship,  the  last  torch 

she  unfurled — 

"By  base  corruption,  with  these  three,  she  'd  purify 
the  world." 

The  First  Torch. 

The  waving  of  her  first  torch  was  the  signal  for  on 
slaught, 
And  no  such  war  has  ever  been,   such  battles  ever 

fought ; 
The  Allied  nations,  and  Entente,  drew  help  from  every 

clime, 
It  was  the  last  war  to  be  fought,  the  bloodiest  of  all 

time! 
Such  brutal  carnage  ne'er  was  known — ne'er  since  the 

world  began — 
And  human  blood  all  o'er  the  face  of  stricken  Europe 

ran. 

Then  from  the  north  a  new — a  peace  Napoleon  appears, 
He  comes  of  Anglo-Saxon  blood,  he 's  old,   though 

young  in  years. 

(Over.) 


92 


MY  VISION.—  Cont. 

The  Second  Torch. 

Hypocrisy  and  Bigotry  the  second  torch  flame  bore, 
And  sowed  the  seeds  Fanaticism,  Falsity,  galore  ; 
Enkindled  in  the  minds  of  man,  from  cradle  to  the 

grave, 

False  ideas,  false  ethics  ;  and  humanity  enslaved. 
The  Church  was  broken  down  —  destroyed,  Morality 

declined.; 
And  then  arose  that  great  Mongolian  Slav  who  was 

designed 

To  clear  Monotheistic  relics  from  the  world,  and  lay 
The  corner-stone  of  Pantheism's  temple,  in  his  day. 
Then  God,  the  Soul,  the  Spirit  and  all  Immortality 
Were  molten  in  the  furnace  to  begin  the  New  Era  ! 

The  Third  Torch. 

And  then  was  thrown  aloft  the  flame,  the  third  torch 

was  deployed, 
The  Moral  and  Art  standards  and  the  Family  Ties 

destroyed. 
Then  conies  from  Latin  ranks  the  destined  hero  en 


"Commercialism"   yields    her   place    to    Symbolism's 
sway. 

(Over.) 


93 


MY  VISION.— Cont. 

Sex  Partnership  Prosaic  and  Degenerated  Art 

No  more  will  sway  the  nations  of  the  Earth,  they  've 

played  their  part — 
The  world  is  purged  and  given  a  new  life,  forth  from 

this  day, 

Polygamy,  Monogamy  become  Poet-ogamy. 
Commercialism's  reign  is  o'er,  the  world  is  purged  of 

sins, 
There  's  Universal  Peace,  and  the  New  History  begins. 


Sequitur. 

The  old  world's  kindoms  and  empires  depleted  and 

destroyed, 
"UNITED  NATIONS  OF  THE  WORLD,"  the  new-coined 

name  employed — 
And  all  the  world  becomes  One  Power  with  four  giants 

in  control, 
And  these  four  giants  are :  Anglo-Saxon,  Latin,  Slav, 

Mongol. 


94 


HAZARDLETS. 

Little  steam-puff  cloudlets 

Linger  'bout  the  sky, 
Sky-fields  white  with  daisies, 

Blooming  heaven  high, 
You  aride  in  star's  gold  car, 
Like  other  stars  that  motor  far 

'Mong  blooms  heaven-nigh. 

Hazardous  for  star-prince, 

If  he  linger  nigh, 
Cupid  dart  may  pierce  him, 

Shot  from  hazel  eye ; 
Star-prince,  then,  of  sky  and  air, 
Be  wounded  by  fairest  of  fair — 

Wounded,  crushed  like  I ! 


DISCIPLES  OF  SOMNUS. 

Lowly  shrubs  with  towsled  heads, 
Twinkling  stars  with  sleepy  eyes, 
Swaying,  swinging  lullabys, 

Droning,  drowsy,  slug-a-beds. 


95 


MODEST  WORTH. 

I  do  not  wish  to  mount  and  soar 

On  eagle's  wings 

Beyond  the  purview  of  my  cabin  door, 
Nor  rise  above  the  common,  honest  poor, 

To  wake  the  strings 
Vibrating  proud  Ambition's  roar 
'Bove  earthly  things ! 

I  would  be  human,  like  the  rest, 

And  make  my  song 
A  chorus  to  that  kinship  in  my  breast, 
That  it  might  make,  at  Modest  Worth's  behest, 

In  that  great  throng, 
The  weak,  and  tempted,  and  oppressed 
Stand  firm  and  strong ! 

Oh,  may  Ambition  on  me  frown 

And  furl  his  scroll ! 

I  ask  no  greater  wealth,  nor  more  renown, 
Than  that  the  meed  of  friendship  may  abound, 

And  me  enfold ; 

And  should  I  have  this  laurel  crown, 
'Twere  wealth  untold ! 


96 


THE  PRESS. 

I  am  the  Printing  Press  of  Mother  Earth, 
With  heart  of  steel,  iron-limbed,  and  hands  of  brass; 
I  sing  the  wojrld's  song,  its  historic  past, 

And  symphonies  of  Time,  back  to  Time's  birth ; 

I  plead  the  cause  of  master  and  of  serf, 
I  herald  the  to-morrow,  voice  to-day, 
And  speak  to  lands  and  cities  far  away. 

I  weave  the  woof  of  future,  warp  of  past, 
I  tell  the  tale,  alike,  of  peace  and  war, 
I  stir  the  pulse  of  nation  near  and  far, 

And  make  the  hero  fight  and  die  at  last. 

I  satisfy  the  toiler  to  his  class. 
Inspire,  alike,  the  peasant  and  the  pope 
With  consolation  and  eternal  hope ! 

I  make  the  human  heart  with  passion  beat ; 
A  myriad  people  listen  when  I  speak, 
And  Latin,  Hun,  and  Celt,  and  Slav,  and  Greek, 
All  know  my  language — all  my  words  repeat, 
And  all  my  information  gladly  greet ; 
I  cry  their  joys  and  sorrows  every  hour, 
And  give  the  world  its  knowledge  and  its  power ! 

(Over.) 


97 


THE  PRESS.— Cont. 

I  am  the  tireless  clarion  of  news, 
I  fill  the  dullard's  mind  with  brightening  thought, 
Man's  conquest  over  matter  I  have  wrought, 

His  mind  of  ignorance  I  disabuse ; 

I  record  man's  achievements,  them  diffuse 
Throughout  the  world  wherever  they  are  sought, 
And  leave  man  uninformed  and  dull  in  naught. 

My  offspring  come  to  you  where'er  you  be, 
In  crepuscule,  at  eventide,  at  night, 
By  incandescent  glow,  or  candlelight — 

To  squalid  huts  of  pinching  poverty, 

Or  gilded  palaces  of  luxury. 
I  am  the  tears  and  laughter — world's  delight, 
I  am  the  Printing  Press,  the  Beacon  Light ! 


98 


SOME  CONSOLATION. 

All  Europe  's  in  war's  bloody  toils, 

Newspapers  full  of  "dope"- 
The  poor  are  sorely  cramped  for  aught  to  eat; 
The  wolf  is  at  my  door,  almost, 
I  scarcely  have  a  hope — 
But  the  children 

Call  me  "Fatty" 

Down  the  street. 

I  rack  my  brains  to  figure  out 

The  mystery,  the  plan — 
The  problems  God  hath  set  for  man  to  meet ; 
I  delve  in  lore  abstruse — complex, 
I  do  the  best  I  can — 
When  the  children 
Call  me  "Fatty" 

Down  the  street. 

There  's  something  in  this  wicked  world 

To  compensate  sorrow — 
For  every  Woe  there  is  a  Weal,  complete ; 
But  I,  of  all  poor  mortals  here, 

Have  fared  the  best,  you  know — 
For  the  children 

Call  me  "Fatty" 

Down  the  street. 

Oh !  let  the  War-dogs  bark  and  roar 

In  Europe,  Mexico — 

Let  Hunger  stalk  abroad,  her  victims  greet ; 
I  still  have  bread  and  water,  and 
Our  Country  has  no  foe — 
And  the  children 
Call  me  "Fatty" 

Down  the  street. 


99 


MY  CREED. 

To  pay  my  country  due  respect, 
Like  my  profession  and  myself ; 

My  honesty  to  ne'er  neglect ; 

Nor  sell  my  fellow-man  for  pelf ; 

Give  honest  effort  for  success ; 

In  my  own  proposition  b'lieve ; 
My  mistakes  cheerfully  confess ; 

My  neighbor,  in  no  way,  deceive ; 

To  save  my  means,  as  well  as  earn ; 

Be  optimistic,  never  knock ; 
To  plan  to  do  a  friendly  turn ; 

Meet  promise',  punct'al  as  the  clock ; 

Guard  health  of  body,  peace  of  mind ; 

Mix  brains  with  effort ;  system  use ; 
With  friend  and  foe  be  firm,  but  kind ; 

To  waste  not  time,  nor  life  abuse ; 

My  business  study,  in  detail ; 

Cut  out  amusements  expensive ; 
Enjoy  life's  good  things ;  never  fail 

To  play  the  game  of  "live-let-live" ; 

'Gainst  my  own  weakness  make  the  fight ; 

Be  court'ous,  faithful,  a  Christian ; 
A  fragrance  in  the  path  of  right ; 

And,  last  and  best,  to  be  a  man! 


100 


A  "CABBY'S"  TRIBUTE. 

An  unsophisticated  country  girl 
Alighted  from  the  train, 

And  "Cabby"  saw— 
The  city  was  a  clam'rous,  muddled  whirl 
To  her  untutored  brain, 
For  she  was  raw. 

A  "friend"  had  told  her  two  places  to  stop : 
One  proved  a  vacant  lot, 

And  "Cabby"  smiled; 
The  other  address  was  a  barber  shop 
And  foreign  "polyglot," 
Somewhat  defiled. 

He  passed  both  places,  unannounced,  for  the 

Y-       -  W C A , 

And  place  her  there, 

Where  she  'mong  helpful,  loving  friends  might  be. 
Ah,  there  are,  still,  this  day, 
Some  men  four-square! 


1 01 


MORTALITY'S  RESPONSE. 
(Job  x'w.  14.) 

And  "If  a  man  die,  shall  he  live  again?" 

This  query  comes  down  through  the  centuries, 

Ubiquitous,  and  rife  with  mysteries ; 

Echo  resounds  the  query  for  refrain, 

Unheeded,  still,  of  Desolation's  cries ! 

No  gleam,  no  spark,  no  finger-point  of  Fate 

Has  pierced  the  depths  of  that  lugubrious  gloom, 

Its  subterranean  vaults  to  penetrate, 

And  cleave  the  veil  of  that  dread  Potentate ! 

Death  is  the  final  principle,  the  king, 

So  silently  caparisoned  in  state, 

Who  rides  upon  his  fleet,  sequacious  wing, 

And  gives  no  issue  from  his  prurient  womb 

Nor  sends  back  answer  from  the  cold,  dark  tomb ! 


102 


CHILDREN'S  FAIRY  TALE. 

The  Fates  gave  me  a  small  box  made  of  lime, 
Filled  with  a  substance  viscid,  glutinous, 
And  promised  to  transmute,  from  that  viscous, 

At  length,  a  fine  gold  watch  to  keep  the  time. 

They  bade  me  guard  the  little  gift  of  mine, 

And  keep  it  warm,  but  not  too  hot,  nor  cold  ; 
And  this  I  did  a  few  days,  and  behold, 

A  gold  chronometer  superb,  sublime ! 

The  transformation  was  a  great  surprise : 
That  from  that  viscous  in  the  little  case, 
That  air-tight,  oval  box  so  commonplace, 

Was  hocus-pocussed,  right  before  my  eyes, 

A  costly,  precious  jewel — valued  prize, 

With  mainspring,  hairspring,  lever,  dial,  hands, 
Escapement — everything  a  watch  commands — 

A  watch  with  no  defect  to  criticise ! 

And  stranger  still — more  wonderful  to  me, 

The  fact  that  every  wheel,  and  slot,  and  chase, 
And  jewel,  screw,  and  rivet  was  in  place, 

And  all  fit  with  such  exact  nicety, 

And  helped  to  keep  the  time  so  correctly, 

That  many  came  from  far  and  unknown  lands 
To  hear  the  watch  tick — hold  it  in  their  hands, 

And  see  how  such  a  mystery  could  be ! 

(Over.} 


103 


CHILDREN'S  FAIRY  TALE.— Cont. 

Well,  children,  it  dumbfounded  every  man ; 
In  fact,  'twas  not  a  real  watch  at  all, 
But  a  more  intricate  machine  withal. 

Not  all  the  jewelers  in  all  the  land 

Could  make  one  by  machinery,  nor  by  hand ; 
Its  fragile  mechanism  was  so  nice 
Man  could  not  make  such  thing  at  any  price, 

It  was  so  perfect,  wonderful,  and  grand ! 

Instead  of  crystal,  face,  hand,  lever,  chain, 

It  had  rich  plumes  and  down,  backbone,  mouth, 
claw, 

Bone,  muscle,  blood,  beak,  skull,  heart,  liver,  craw, 
Lung,  tissue,  vocal  cord,  artery,  vein ; 
It  had  a  head,  and  in  the  head  a  brain, 

It  had  eyes,  ears,  feet,  spurs,  comb,  neck,  tail,  leg ; 

It  had  within,  likewise,  an  unlaid  egg — 
It  lives,  breathes,  walks,  sings,  flies,  and  works  amain. 

Each  little  bone  of  leg,  and  wing,  and  spine 
Is  polished  like  the  ivory  so  smooth, 
And  each  articulation  and  each  groove, 

So  ground  and  fashioned — work  so  superfine, 

Harmonious  in  measurement  and  line, 

And  knit  with  correlated,  skillful  plan, 
So  far  beyond  the  workmanship  of  man 

It  surely  is  a  handiwork  Divine ! 

(Over.) 


104 


CHILDREN'S  FAIRY  TALE.— Cont. 

Its  dainty  form,  in  its  upholstering, 

Enveloped  in  soft  down  of  beauteous  tints 
Like  variegated,  decorated  chintz, 

And  plumage  from  Dame  Nature's  fashioning, 

Makes  a  symmetrical,  exquisite  thing. 

A  thing  of  rhythmic,  charming,  anthine  grace 
Touched  with  the  brush  to  rainbow-artist's  taste — 

She  mounts,  and  soars,  and  rides  upon  her  wing ! 

So  'twas  a  bird,  and  not  a  watch,  you  see, 
A  being  far  too  wonderful  for  man, 
More  intricate  than  he  can  even  plan ! 

How  happy — thankful,  children,  we  should  be 

The  fairies  brought  that  lime-shell  box  to  me, 
That  little  egg  so  simple,  commonplace, 
To  teach  us  children,  and  the  human  race, 

That  Life  is  this  world's  greatest  mystery! 


105 


THE  SECRET. 

The  "hobble"  skirt  has  had  its  day, 

"They  Say"  skirts  will  be  wider ; 

Slim  ankles  may 

Be  tucked,  "They  Say," 
Inside — er. 

Next  week,  or  month,  "They  Say"  may  see 

A  poodle-dog  beside  her ; 
She  may  decree 
That  ankles  be 

Worn  wide — er. 

Who  is  "They  Say"?    I  searched  Tazewell, 

And  went  to  Paris  later ; 
I  found  the  belle, 
Fair  Mad-moi-zell 

Dick  Tate— er, 

And  she  told  me  the  secret — plain  ; 

And,  if  I  ne'er  mistook  her, 
She  said :     "It  can 
"Be  n'  other  than 

Man's  Look — er." 


106 


JAKE  BROUGHT  IN  THE  NEWS. 

"Good  morning,  Jake.     How's  all  at  Summerfield ?" 
I  'm  purty  well,  I  thank  you,  'cept  my  crick ; 

My  neck  got  stiff  a-settin'  up  last  night 

At  ole  man  Goodbin's  house.     He  's  mighty  sick ; 

We  thought  he  'd  die  last  night,  he  's  awful  low ; 

The  neighbors  all  come  in  and  set  all  night ; 
He  worried  through  and,  somehow,  was  not  dead 

When  I  left  there  some  time  about  daylight. 

'Long  in  the  night  the  ole  man  talked  a  sight, 

'Twas  mostly  good  advice  to  his  young  wife, 

(Bell  used  to  be  a  little  wild,  you  know;) 
He  tole  her  'bout  the  pitfalls  in  this  life. 

Bell  took  it  hard,  she  shore  embraced  him  some, 
We-all  got  scared,  'feared  she  go  in  a  trance. 

Ma  'lowed :    "She  's  fondlin'  the  ole  man  too  much." 
But  Dock  Grice  said:     "Aw  poot!  on  with  the 
dance." 

The  ole  man  tole  her  he  had  made  his  will, 

By  which  his  farms  and  all  his  wealth  she  'd  take ; 

He  'd  fixed  it  all,  and  now,  before  he  died, 
He  had  of  her  one  last  request  to  make : 

(Over.} 


107 


JAKE  BROUGHT  IN  THE  NEWS.— Cont. 

He  said  he  'd  always  kep'  it  to  his-self, 

But  he  was  jealous  of  her  and  Guss  Grimm, 

And  that  he  never  would  die  satisfied 

Without  she  'd  promise  not  to  marry  him. 

She  was  so  overcome  she  could  not  talk ; 

But  Gran'ma  Arnold  chafed  her  han's  and  breas' 
Until  she  seemed  to  get  her  breath  enough 

To  answer  the  ole1  dyin'  man's  reques'. 

She  said  (among  her  sobs)  that  she  was  glad 
That  she  could  pacify  the  ole  man's  whim ; 

That  though  Guss  wanted  her  so  awful  bad, 
She  positively  could  not  marry  him ; 

She  knowed  they  'd  handled  talk  'bout  her  and  Guss — 
Folks,  not  a  thousand  miles  off,  had  things  staged; 

But  she  'd  an  ole  flame  down  near  Silverton, 
And  him  and  her,  ALREADY,  WAS  INGAGED  ! 


108 


MY  LIFE  SYMPHONY. 

(A  paraphrase  on  "My  Symphony,"  a  prose  composi 
tion,  by  Wm.  Henry  Channing;  Copyrighted  by 
M.  T.  Sheahan,  Boston.) 

To  live  content  with  but  small  means, 

Seek  elegance,  not  luxury; 
Not  fashion's  empty,  nascent  dreams, 

Refinement  rather,  let  it  be ; 

Be  worthy,  npt  respectable ; 

To  be  not  rich,  nor  covet  wealth ; 
Think  true ;  do  right ;  act  frankly — well ; 

Talk  gently ;  study ;  guard  my  health ; 

Await  occasion,  though  'tis  hard ; 

Bear  bravely,  cheerfully,  my  part; 
Give  heed  to  star,  bird,  baby,  bard, 

And  sage  alike,  with  open  heart ; 

To  hurry  not,  but  grow  apace, 

Unbidden  and  unconsciously, 
The  Spir'tual  through  the  Commonplace ; 

This  is  my  Creed  and  Symphony. 


109 


JOE 'S  GOT  THE  BIGGEST  AUT  IN  TOWN. 

Joe  used  to  be  a  puncher  on 

The  cow-ranch,  "Swipe  &  Hyde," 
And  packed  his  guns,  and  chewed,  and  cussed, 

And  played  some  on  the  side ; 
He  's  quit  the  most  of  them  things  now, 

And  to  them  sca'ce  refers ; 
But  one  thing  pore  Joe  can't  give  up — 

He  still  wears  both  his  spurs ! 

CHORUS. 

Joe  's  got  the  biggest  aut  in  town, 

And  I  know  how  to  ride ; 
There  's  wheels  in  wheels,  they  all  turn  round, 

And  some  turn  on  the  side. 

Joe  's  got  a  big  red  4O-hoss — 

I  think  she  's  number  eight ; 
You  ought  to  see  her  spin  and  whirl, 

And  hear  her  carburate ; 
I  've  been  Joe's  girl  now  several  weeks, 

Ev'r  sence  "Old  Red"  was  bought ; 
And  Joe  's  no  mind  for  nothin'  now, 

'Cept  me  and  his  big  aut. 

When  we  get  out  of  town  a  bit, 

Joe  pulls  the  throttle  ope, 
We  leave  the  earth,  I  hang  to  Joe, 

He  is  my  "last  white  hope" ; 
We  run  down  everything  alive, 

Deer,  wolves,  and  such  light  dope; 
Last  week  we  smashed  six  buffalo 

And  fourteen  cantelope ! 

(Rooseveltian.) 
(Over.} 


1 10 


JOE  'S  GOT  THE  BIGGEST  AUT  IN  TOWN. 
Cont. 

Way  out,  clost  Joe's  big  pasture,  there  's 

A  piece  of  road  that 's  straight 
And  level  for  a  hundred  mile, 

Without  a  fence  or  gate ; 
And  when  we  get  away  out  there, 

Joe  speeds  her  down  to  "slow," 
And;  makes  me  hold  the  steerin'-wheel, 

And  he  puts  on  the  show ! 

He  starts  the  orchestra  to  go, 

He  puts  on  a  new  reel, 
He  starts  the  "movies"  up,  you  know, 

And  says :     "Just  let  'er  spiel." 
And  then — O  me !     O  my !     O  gee ! 

The  "movies" — yum,  yum,  yum ! 
I  plays  with  his — plays  with  his  spurs, 

And  lets  him — chew  my  gum ! 


in 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  YOUTH. 

(Written  on  reading  an  editorial  on  "Youth"  in  the 
Daily  Panhandle. ) 

Who  knows,  indeed — yea,  who  can  tell 
In  what  fair,  distant  land  may  dwell 
Youth's  spirit,  when  it  bids  farewell 

And  takes  its  flight — 
To  dwell  in  that  ineffable, 

Eleusine  night  ? 

Takes  its  reluctant,  farewell  flight 
From  field  of  wistful  eye's  delight, 
We  know  not,  nor  can  guess  aright, 

To  what  fair  plain — 
And  makes  its  sojourn  infinite, 

Nor  comes  again. 

But  this  we  know :  there  goes  from  us 

Forever  that  mysterious, 

Glad,  sparkling  life-wine  stimulus, 

That  fine  bouquet — 
And  leaves  life  but  an  incubus, 

Soon  to  decay. 

Though  Youth  is  callow,  at  its  best, 
Unstable,  foolish ;  yet  the  rest 
Of  life,  without  its  buoyant  zest. 

Is  weak  forsooth — 
Compared  with  that,  quaintly  expressed : 

"Moonshine  of  Youth." 


112 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  YOUTH.— Cont. 

Fame,  fortune,  honors,  power,  place — 
Like  all  those  flaming  goals  we  chase, 
Though  they  inebriate  our  race — 

The  human  (brute)  ; 
Compared  with  Youth's  alluring  face 

Are  Dead  Sea  fruit. 

If  Youth  could  know  !  could  tell  the  tale, 

Its  hidden  mysteries  unveil  ; 

"Ere  moon  grows  cold,  and  sun  goes  pale," 

Could  know  its  fate ! 
But  Youth  knows  not  of  life's  entail 

Till  'tis  too  late. 

Youth  is  a  flower,  in  bud  and  bloom, 
Which,  but  in  blooming,  hath  perfume ; 
To  know  how  rare  and  sweet  that  boon — 

Fair  gift  from  God — 
Life  must  become  (and  does  too  soon) 

A  rattling  pod! 


DON'T  CHER  KNOW. 

Colombia  is  fixed, 

Don't  cher  know, 
But  aren't  we  somewhat  mixed — 
Eh,  Woodrow? 

If  Pauncefote  should  kick 
(Like  Huerta),  throw  a  brick, 
Or  Panama  get  sick, 
'Spose  it  would  play  "Old  Nick" 
With  the  show  ? 

Should  her  ships  go  through  free, 

Don't  cher  know, 
Old  England  mayn't  agree — 
Eh,  Woodrow? 

Will  other  nations  be, 
Somewhat  like  Champ  and  me, 
Or  will  they  want  it  free — 
(What  of  the  Hague  "tree-tee"?) 
What's  the  show? 

Twenty-five  million  "bucks" — 

Thus  they  go. 
Is  money  cheap  as  shucks  ? 
It  seems  so. 

When  we  have  "counted  ducks," 
Have  raked  o'er  all  the  mucks, 
Have  pressed  out  all  the  tucks, 
I  'm  'fraid  we  're  "off  the  trucks," 
Don't  cher  know. 


114 


I  AM  SO  GLAD  I  TRUST  IN  HIM. 

I  am  so  glad — 

I  am  so  glad  that  I  can  work  and  play, 
And  love,  and  serve,  and  worship,  think,  and  pray 
With  thankful  heart  for  duty  done  each  day — 

I  am  so  glad ! 

I  am  content — 

I  am  content  if  I  some  recompense 
Can  make  for  these ;  and  rest,  without  offense, 
Within  the  bosom  of  His  confidence — 

I  am  content ! 

I  trust  in  Him — 
I  trust  in  Him  as  my  alternative, 
To  whom  my  soul  and  life  I  gladly  give. 
He  gave  me  more — He  died  that  I  might  live ! 

I  trust  in  Him ! 


OUR  CHURCH  PROGRAMME. 

My  home  church  prints  these  words  in  its  programme 
I  shall  not  worry,  shall  not  be  afraid ; 

I  shall  seek  out  the  poor  where'er  I  am, 
And  give  them  aid ; 

I  shall  be  courteous,  humane,  discreet ; 

In  judgment  on  my  fellows  I  '11  be  mild ; 
I  shall  be  kind  to  every  one  I  meet, 

Man,  woman,  child; 

I  shall  be  cheerful,  faithful,  honest,  true ; 

I  Ml  trust  in  God,  the  future  bravely  face ; 
And  that  I  may  these  pledges  keep,  and  do, 

Lord  give  me  grace ; 

I  shall  not  envy ;  yield  to  anger,  strife ; 

I  shall  refrain  from  hatred,  jealousy. 
Lord,  make  these  lines  the  aegis  of  my  life — 

My  Pledge  to  Thee  ! 


116 


WE  DON'T  SPEAK. 

She  's  fair  and  beautiful  and  gay, 
The  rarest,  sweetest  flower; 
Her  tragic  mien — oh,  what  a  sight  to  see ! 
A  model  whom  men  crave  to  view, 

Fresh  from  her  perfumed  bower; 
And  she  's  clever, 

But  she  never 

Speaks  to  me. 

Men  quit  their  stores  to  see  her  pass, 

She  shows  her  class,  she  's  chic; 
Her  Cleopatric  pose,  hauteur — O  gee  ! 
She  has  one  faulti  (I  hate  to  tell), 

Her  skirt 's  too  long,  too  thick ; 
(And  I  'd  never,) 

If  she  'd  ever 

Speak  to  me. 

Dame  Nature  holds  no  prize  sublime 

Like  her ;  she  grips  my  heart ! 
Oh,  what  a  fair,  proud  queen  she  'd  ever  be ! 
If  she,  from  me,  would  take  some  hints 

On  clothes  I  could  impart, 
And  would  ever, 

(Failing  never,) 

Speak  to  me. 

T  gave  a  girl  points,  once,  on  clothes, 

Next  week  she  married  swell ; 
She  scooped  ten  thousand  plunks  al-ee-mo-nee ! 
I  might  put  some  of  you,  girls,  next, 

But  her  you  must  not  tell, 
For  she  'd  never, 

Never,  never, 

Speak  to  me. 


TENDER  WOMAN'S  POWER. 

How  true  'tis  woman  holds  man's  every  fate, 
To  shape  it  as  the  potter  shapes  the  clay, 

And  make  his  life  what  she  would  have  it  be. 
No  depths  too  low,  nor  is  it  e'er  too  late, 

For  her  to  reach  her  hand,  snatch  him  away, 
And  make  or  mar  his  final  destiny. 

'Tis  likewise  true  that  woman  is  a  vase 

As  fragile  as  the  floating  bubble-shell — 

A  pitcher  which,  though  none  may  be  more 

fair, 

Is  doomed  to  break — to  shatter  in  disgrace, 
If  it  go  once  too  often  to  the  well ; 

Nor  she  nor  all  the  world  may  it  repair ! 


SHELLEYAN  CRONYNS. 

Enchanting — appalling, 
The  forest  loudly  calling, 
And  the  horizon  is  golden 
And  the  silver  stars  are  falling, 
Falling  from  the  cold  gray  sky. 
And  the  red  blood's  throbs  embolden, 
And  the  night  owl's  lonely  weeping, 
And  the  day-dreams  slowly  creeping 
Where  the  deepening  shadows  lie. 
And  the  harvest  moon  is  swollen 
With  the  sunlight  she  has  stolen 
From  the  blazing  sun,  and  he  is  red. 
Come  ye  now  with  entwined  head, 
Come  ye  now 
With  laurel  wreathed  on  your  sage  brow. 


118 


COMPENSATORY. 

I  did  not  feel  like  smiling,  I  was  sad, 

The  world  awry — 

Customers  shy — 
My  business  all  seemed  going  to  the  bad ; 

Rich  uncle  would  not  die. 

; 

Bankruptcy  seemed  to  stare  me  in  the  face, 

Report  was  rife 

I  'd  quit  my  wife — 
My  moth'r-in-law  moved  over  to  our  place, 

And  she  insured  my  life ! 


Resigned,  all  day,  I  laughed  and  romped,  in  play 

With  ma,  wife,  child, 

In  raptures  wild — 
And  this  old,  funny  world  turned  'round,  next  day, 

And  winked  at  me,  and  smiled! 


119 


THE  LOVER'S  RECOMPENSE. 

Both  Hate  and  Anger  may,  in  words,  or  blows, 
Discharge  themselves  on  foe,  or  even  guest ; 

With  gain,  old  Greed's  rapacity  compose ; 

And  Sorrow  may,  in  tears,  find  sweet  repose ; 

But  that  sweet  passion  Love  hath  no  redress. 

True  love  alone  its  Amoret  will  keep 

To  that  which  flusters  his  design  and  dream, 
And  makes  him  grieve,  lament,  and  sigh,  and  weep, 
And  tremble,  fawn,  and  crouch,  and  cringe,  and 

creep — f 
More  worthy  of  disdain  than  of  esteem. 

And  woman,  who  is  born  to  be  controlled, 

Will  worship  those  who  haughty  spirits  boast, 

Affect  the  loud,  and  gay,  and  proud,  and  bold, 

And  to  the  gallant,  care-free  lover  hold  ; 

While  she  disdains  the  man  who  loves  her  mostf 


120 


MORTALITY; 

OR, 

THE  STAR  OF  BETHLEHEM. 

Death  is  the  final  principle  of  life, 

The  end  of  all ; 

The  culmination  and  the  doleful  pall 
Whose  dread,  unerring  strokes  are  ever  rife. 

He  garners  what  his  scythe  lets  fall, 
And  needs  no  gleaner  in  his  wake ; 

No  straws,  astray, 

Are  left  for  Ruth  to  bear  away. 
Nor  king  nor  potentate  may  make 

One  moment  of  delay. 

Nor  may  the  gold  of  Ophir  or  Peru 

Respite,  reprieve  ; 

Or  purchase  amnesty,  or  Death  deceive ; 
Nor  lease  of  life  repurchase  or  renew ; 

Nor  man  from  his  dread  clutch  relieve. 
Naught  in  the  great  Dispensary 

May  Death  withhold, 

Nor  hinder,  counteract,  control 
The  flight  of  that  swift  mystery — 

That  thing  we  call  the  Soul. 

Yea,  man  who  makes  the  very  elements 

Obey  his  will, 

Subserve  his  pleasures,  and  his  coffers  fill ; 
Himself  to  Death  must  yield  obedience, 

And  that  ferine  mandate  fulfill. 
Though,  from  the  grossest  ignorance, 

He 's  hewn  his  way 

Up  to  this  crowning  century, 
Yet  he  must  crinee  in  obeisance 

To  that  dread  Mystery ! 

(Over.} 


121 


MORTALITY.— Cont. 

Grim  dissolution  knows  no  favorite ; 

The  cowering  slave, 

The  belted  knight,  the  crim'nal,  and  the  knave, 
The  squalid  beggar,  in  his  rags  bedight, 

Whose  only  welcome  is  the  grave ; 
From  mart,  and  shop,  and  forge,  and  loom — 

No  dearth  nor  lack — 

All  privies  to  that  great  compact ; 
All,  all  are  driftng  to  the  tomb, 

And  none  will  e'er  come  back ! 

But,  looking  far  beyond  the  flocks  of  stars, 

I  see  a  light, 

More  brilliant,  yea,  than  silv'ry  satellite, 
And  grander  far  than  Jupiter  or  Mars, 

Which  shines  beyond  the  Skeptic's  night 
For  man's  redemption,  him  to  save, 

His  Diadem ! 

'Twill  this  mortality  o'erwhelm, 
'Twill  conquer  Death.  Hell,  and  the  grave — 

The  Star  of  Bethlehem! 


122 


THEY  'RE  AFTER  US. 

The  sisters  whom  you  and  I  woo,  Fame  and  Fortune, 
Are  flirting  with  us  every  day  of  our  lives ; 

In  thousands  of  ways  they  show  us  that  misfortune 
Awaits  those  who  fail  to  get  them  for  their  wives. 

They  sing  like  the  Sirens,  they  beckon  us  onward ; 

They  use  every  effort  to  "bring  us  around" ; 
They  tell  us  life's  path  hath  no  steps  leading  down 
ward; 

To  retrograde  one  must  "jump  off"  or  "fall  down." 

They  say  that  each  one  hath  within  latent  power 
Enough  to  put  on  the  "high,"  "let  her  run  full" ; 

That  old  Opportunity  's  plucked  like  a  flower, 

And  "pep,"  "push,"  and  "pluck"  will  beat  "pap," 
"pax,"  and  "pull." 


123 


MY  PARAPHRASE. 

(Of  Victor  Hugo's  "Easter  Hope.") 

Within  myself  a  feeling  rife, 
A  consciousness  of  future  life 

Pervades  my  soul ;  and  I  am  like  a  forest,  once  cut 
down ;  i 

The  new  shoots  sprung  afresh,  once  more, 
Are  stronger,  liv'lier  than  before, 

And  I  receive  new  sap  from  air,  and  sunshine, 
rain,  and  ground. 

I  know  I  'm  rising  toward  the  sky, 
The  sunshine  beckons  me  on  high, 

And  Heaven,  with  reflection  of  unknown  worlds, 

lights  my  way; 

You  tell  me  that  the  soul  is  naught 
But  fruits  of  bod'ly  power,  inwrought — 

Then  why  is  my  soul  still  more  bright,  and  lumin 
ous  each  day? 

Why  then,  when  bod'ly  powers  fail, 
My  head  wears  winter's  silvery  veil 

And  youth  no  more  within  my  sinking  frame  is 

lingering, 

Why  breathe  I  such  perfume,  forsooth, 
From  lilacs,  violets  of  youth, 

Why  in  my  heart  that  fragrance  still,  that  bright, 
eternal  spring? 

(Over.) 


124 


MY  PARAPHRASE.— Cont. 

The  nearer  I  approach  my  bier, 
The  plainer,  clearer  still  I  hear 

Around  me  and  about  me  that  immortal  symphony 
Of  beckoning  worlds'  inviting  strains — 
How  simple,  yet  how  passing  strange — 

It  is  a  fairy  tale,  and  yet  a  living  history ! 

For  half  a  century  my  thought, 
In  prose  and  poetry  I  Ve  wrought ; 

In  history,  romance,  tradition,  ode,  philosophy ; 
In  drama,  satire,  song;  in  all — 
I  Ve  answered  to  the  Muses'  call ; 

Yet  still  I  feel  I  have  not  said  a  thousandth  part 
in  me! 

And  as  I  go  down  to  the  tomb 
My  life  's  not  finished ;  I  '11  resume 

Next  morning  my  day's  work,  which  shall  go  on, 

and  on,  and  on — 
The  tomb  's  no  alley  of  despair, 
'Tis  a  broad,  open  thoroughfare, 

It  closes  on  the  twilight,  but  it  opens  with  the 
dawn! 


125 


THE  LAST  CHANCE. 

(  Unspeakable. ) 

The  deep  and  quiet  ocean  lay 
At  rest,  the  storm  had  past ; 

The  white-winged  Argo  from  the  bay, 
Dismantled  of  her  mast; 

Her  rigging  long  since  blown  away, 

Her  deck  in  ruin  and  decay, 

She  drifted,  chartless,  day  by  day  — 
Until  at  last  — 

Starvation's  spectral  Demon  came 

And  claimed  some  souls  each  day, 
Till  but  Medea  and  Colchaine 

Were  left  to  wait  and  pray ! 
Then,  that  SHE  might  her  life  maintain, 
And  one  more  chance  for  rescue  gain, 
He  gave  hid  body  to  the  flame! 
Her  death's  delay/ 


126 


MAN  THE  MOTH. 

A  moth,  upon  my  window-pane 

One  summer  night, 
Beat  out  its  fragile,  foolish  life  in  vain, 
And  died  from  sheer,  exhausting  overstrain, 

In  sorry  plight — 
Self-murdered  rather  than  remain 
Out  from  the  light ! 

And  man  fights  as  persistently 

'Gainst  Fate's  redoubt ! 
The  blaze  of  lucent  glory  charms  his  eye 
With  goals  that  beckon  him  to  do,  or  die — 

And  there  's  no  doubt 
But  Man  's  a  type  of  candle-fly, 
And  won't  stay  out ! 


127 


LOVE'S  REQUITAL. 

Dear  Heart: — 

If  you  loved  me  as  I  love  you 

'Twould  translate,  to  this  earth,  the  joys  above, 
And  make  it  an  Elys'an  rendezvous, 

An  Eden,  crowned  with  happiness  and  love ; 
No  realms  would  be  so  beautiful  and  fair, 

The  Universe,  attuned  in  harmony, 
Would  catch  the  spirit  of  the  leading  air 

In  playing  Life's  concinnous  melody ; 
The  sun  would  then  dispense  serener  light, 

His  streaming  sunbeams  would  become  pure  gold, 
The  glimm'ring  sheen  from  Luna's  sybarite 

Be  nifti'r  lure,  for  lovers,  than  of  old ; 
Man's  greed  and  tyranny  would  cease — elide, 

His  ardent  wishes  clothe  in  softer  hues, 
His  "sword  and  scepter,  pageantry  and  pride" 

No  more  his  brother  outrage  and  abuse; 
The  "Brotherhood  of  Man,"  Utopia's  dream. 

Would  come  to  soothe  and  sweeten  all  our  cares, 
Humanity  would  stand  secure — supreme, 

Beyond  the  reach  of  Satan's  artful  snares ; 

(Over.} 


128 


U)VE'S  REQUITAL.— Cont. 

And  universal  love  would  have  her  sway, 

No  labor — man's  refection  given  free — 
All  life  would  be  a  golden  holiday, 

A  ?lad,  romantic,  sweet  concinnity ; 
The  sage's  precept  and  the  poet's  song, 

Then  woven  into  music,  would  begin 
To  modify  the  harshness  of  the  throng 

Like  plaintive,  silver  notes  of  violin, 
And  saints  and  angels  would  take  up  the  strain, 

And  all  the  worlds  glad  acclamation  give, 
And  Heav'n  and  Earth  would  sing  the  glad  refrain : 

"Love's  manumission  of  all  things  that  live" ; 
And  bird,  bee,  beast,  and  insect,  foetus,  flower, 

Would  catch  the  strain  wherever  they  might  be 
And,  like  a  long-pent  river  in  its  power, 

Would  burst  the  bounds  and  sweep  on  to  the  sea ; 
And  in  that  SEA  OF  LOVE,  there  everything 

Its  friendship  and  alleg'ance  would  renew 
To  that  great  potentate — Erosian  king — 

//  you  loved  me  as  I  love  you! 


129 


ANDROMEDA'S  SACRIFICE. 

In  the  long,  long  years  ago, 

Where  the  tall  palmettos  grow, 
Grew  a  maiden,  fairer  than  the  poet's  dream ; 

Dowered  lavishly  with  health, 

And  the  luxuries  of  wealth, 
As  her  social  life  and  station  would  beseem. 

But  she  closed  the  flower-hung  gate, 

Opening  to  power  and  state, 
Closed  the  manuscript  of  luxury  complete ; 

Put  the  silver  tissue  down, 

For  the  Sacred  Order's  gown, 
Laid  her  wealth  down  at  our  Lady  Sorrow's  feet. 

Yet  the  cold  world  did  not  feel. 

When  the  pitiless,  sharp  steel 
Swept  the  silken  hair  from  that  fair,  thoughtful  brow  r 

Nor  did  reverential  boast, 

Sweep  from  lake  to  ocean's  coast, 
When  she  donned  the  Black  Veil — took  the  Sacred 
Vow. 

Nought  but  chant  in  whispered  breath — 

Requiem  of  maiden's  death ! 
'Twas  a  silence  deep,  profound  as  dolent  night ; 

A  surrender  of  the  dead, 

A  new  nun  had  raised  her  head 
'Mong  the  galaxy  of  stars,  a  satellite ! 

(Over.} 


130 


ANDROMEDA'S  SACRIFICE.— Cont. 

She  had  known  naught  of  world's  strife, 

Nor  the  bitterness  of  life, 
Royalty  had  showered  roses  at  her  feet  ; 

Birds  had  sung  their  joyous  lays, 

Mingled  with  the  voice  of  praise, 
A  delirium  of  music,  her  to  greet. 

Young  and  tender  as  a  vine, 

Veins  athriH  with  Nature's  wine, 
Life  had  opened  wondrous  visions  to  her  eyes ; 

A  wide  vista  of  delights, 

Peopled  with  fair  nymphs  and  sprites 
And  light  fancies  like  Titania's  butterflies. 

Love's  young  fairy-tale,  so  droll, 

Had  been  whispered  to  her  soul, 

Hope  had  nestled  his  winged  god  'gainst  her  white 
breast ; 

'Mong  her  visions  volupt'ous 

Were  sweet  dreams  of  Perseus, 
Love's  pomegranate  fo  her  vanm  lips  had  been  pressed. 

But  beyond  her  dream-child's  eyes, 

Was  her  call  for  sacrifice ; 
Through  the  vibratory  sweetness  of  bird's  song 

Came  the  low  wail  of  the  lost 

Woman,  shamed,  adrift,  sin-tossed, 
Sisters  steeped  in  crime  as  victims  of  man's  wrong ! 

(Over.') 


ANDROMEDA'S  SACRIFICE.— Cont. 

Then  from  visions — day-dreams  bright, 

Turned  now  to  Eternal  Night, 
Dark  as  souls  that  cower  naked  on  the  thorns, 

That  girl-woman  comes  to  bless 

Fallen  woman,  her  caress — 
Win  her  back  from  that  dark  valley  of  life's  storms. 

From  the  warmth  of  Love's  soft  kiss, 

From  the  home  of  peaceful  bliss, 
From  the  Pleasure  Gardens  of  her  girlish  haunts ; 

Turned  she  to  the  plain-wall  room — 

Silence  of  the  sacred  tomb, 
And  surrendered  life  to  others'  needs  and  wants ! 

Her  heart-hunger  starved  and  bruised, 

Her  sex-mission-ship  abused, 
She  that  bitter  cup  of  gall  patiently  sips ; 

By  the  metal  cross  crushed  back 

In  her  breast  that  pain,  that  lack — 
That  deep  yearning  for  the  touch  of  baby  lips ; 

Her  girl-life  crushed,  crucified, 

On  the  cross  she  deified, 
For  the  sins  of  woman  whom  man  had  betrayed ; 

In  poor,  fallen  woman's  shame, 

Buried  she  her  youth  and  name — 
'Twos  the  sacrifice  Andromeda  had  made! 


132 


SHORT-CHANGED. 

Whenever  I  make 

A  willful  mistake, 
I  know  I  shall  rue  it — and  should; 

I  barter  for  pelf, 

And  short-change  myself, 
Whenever  I  fail  to  make  good ! 

My  life  's  not  my  own, 

'Tis  merely  a  loan ; 
I  own  not  my  next  breath  of  air ; 

How  petty  to  cheat — 

To  practice  deceit — 
How  'shamed  I  am,  when  I  'm  not  square ! 

I  'd  rather  be  right 

Throughout  the  whole  fight, 
And  let  the  world  wag  as  it  can, 

Than  own  the  whole  range, 

And  be  a  "Short-Change," 
And  know  that  I  can't  be  a  man! 

I  may  make  a  bluff, 

Pretend  I  'm  "the  stuff" 
And  living  the  life  that  I  should ; 

The  fact  still  remains, 

Myself  I  short-change 
Whenever  I  fail  to  make  good ! 

Then  take  it  from  me, 

Whoe'er  you  may  be, 
You  'd  better  maintain  your  manhood ! 

It 's  off  like  an  elf— 

You  Ve  short-changed  yourself 
Whenever  you  fail  to  make  good ! 


133 


OUR  TRYST. 

When  snows  and  blizzards  pass  away, 

And  tender  Spring 

Begins  to  sing, 
To  her  sweet  flowers,  her  melody, 

I  think  of  one  with  whom  I  roved 

'Mong  shady  bowers, 

And  tender  flowers, 
In  that  deep  forest  she  so  loved. 

One  day  we  found  a  cozy  nook 

'Mong  scandent  vines 

And  columbines — • 
A  mossy  seat  beside  a  brook. 


She  wept  that  day  I  went  away ; 

Then,  comforted, 

She  smiled  and  said : 
"Let 's  go  back  to  our  nook  some  day." 


Oh,  cruel  Death's  sad,  heartless  reign ! 

How  could  we  know 

That  she  must  go 
Ere  I  beheld  her  face  again? 

The  flowers  are  dead ;  the  birds  have  flown 

Far  from  our  nook 

Beside  the  brook — 
How  can  I  go  back  there  alone! 


134 


FRIENDSHIP. 

'Tis  said  that  Love,  'mong  all  the  human  passions, 

Holds  in  her  hand  and  wields  the  greatest  sway; 
And  that,  when  she  her  fabric  weaves  and  fashions, 
'Twill  wear  for  aye. 

'Tis  true  that  while  rich  splendors  may  surround  us, 
Love's  tendrils  may  cling  closer  to  our  breast ; 
But  when  afflictions  and  turmoils  seem  boundless, 
Then  comes  the  test ! 

Love  is  a  tender  plant  of  cultivation, 

Which, must  be  often  warmed  with  patient  care; 
It  lacks  solidity  and  deep  foundation, 
It  may  not  wear. 

But  when  Earth's  cold  calamities  betide  us, 

And  Sorrow's  pangs  give  no  surcease,  nor  rest ; 
We  know  a  sweet  refuge  where  we  may  hide  us, 
'Tis  Friendship's  breast! 

Earth  has  no  gift  that  she  might  better  lavish 

Upon  mankind,  that  will  his  life  equip, 
And  strengthen  him  'gainst  temptations  that  ravish, 
Than  true  friendship! 


135 


LOVE'S  BIRTHDAY. 

She  raised  her  eyes,  their  glances  met — 
Oh !  what  was  in  her  look  ? 

There  was  not  much,  and  yet — and  yet — 
It  was  no  open  book ! 

A  glance  from  soul  which  knew  not  self ; 

A  look,  a  gleam,  that 's  all — 
But  woe  to  him  on  whom  that  elf, 

That  maiden  look  may  fall ! 

There  is  a  day  when  every  maid 

Looks  at  a  man  this  way ; 
When  Innocence,  passion-arrayed, 

Has  come  into  its  day ; 

A  reverie,  a  purity, 

A  candor  'thout  disguise ; 
She,  looking  through  futurity, 

With  virgin's  surcharged  eyes ; 

A  woman's  look  through  virgin's  eyes, 

A  message  from  above; 
To  her  a  secret,  a  surprise, 

In  her  the  birth  of  Love ! 


136 


FLYING  THOUGHTS. 

Once,  on  a  time,  I  thought  a  golden  thought, 
And,  in  my  mind,  I  weighed  it,  as  I  ought, 

And  then  I  tossed  it  carelessly  away, 
Quite  heedless  that,  if  it  again  I  sought, 

'T would  come  back  any  day. 

Alas,  alas !  how  far,  how  far  away 

It  sped ;  for,  since,  I  Ve  hunted  day  by  day, 

And  searched  and  probed  throughout  my  heated 

brain, 
Bewailing  the  lost  treasure  gone  astray, 

But  it  came  not  again ! 


And  now,  my  dear,  as  we  talk  here  to-day, 
I  find  my  golden  thought — that  willful  stray — 

Has  sped,  fust  like  my  love,  from  me  to  you ; 
And  thus  both  thought  and  love,  like  children  play, 

One  thought,  one  love  for  two. 


137 


THE  MAID'S  LAMENT. 

I  thought  I  had  a  reason,  then,  to  spurn 
The  love  that,  in  his  bosom,  I  saw  burn 

And  glow,  for  me,  so  constant,  true  and  strong ; 

I  feared  that  he  might  seek  to  do  me  wrong : 
I  thought  he  had  another  bond,  and  place, 
(He  thought  so,  too,  till  he  'd  beheld  my  face)  — 

Then  came  to  me  this  mandate  from  God's  hand : 
"Behold !  there  is  one  mate  for  every  man, 

And,  let  them  find  each  other  where  they  may, 
It  is  the  hour  of  Fate — the  destined  day ; 
O'er  lands  and  seas  and  storms,  Fate  rides  above, 
And  conquers  every  foe.     His  wand  is  Love  ; 

All  ties  and  bonds,  all  locks  and  beams  and  bars 
Are  sophistries,  and  fade  like  noon-day  stars." 

He  tried  to  make  me  understand  it  then; 
His  love  was  not  like  that  of  other  men. 
I  heeded  not  when  I  was  young  and  fair, 
I  flitted  Love  away  like  ambient  air. 

When  I  had  known,  for  sure,  his  love  was  mine, 

I  had  no  right  to  scorn  it,  nor  decline; 

It  was  the  voice  of  Fate,  Love's  sinecure, 

It  was  my  gift  from  God — 'twas  sweet  and  pure ! 

And  if  I  found  him  loosed,  by  law,  or  bound, 

He  was  my  own  to  take,  wherever  found ; 

For,  bound  by  puny  man,  we  may  be  free — 
Man's  laws  are  made  for  mere  convenlency. 

(Over.') 


138 


THE  MAID'S  LAMENT.— Cont. 

He  tried  to  make  me  understand  it  then; 
His  love  was  not  like  that  of  other  men. 
I  heeded  not  when  I  was  young  and  fair, 
I  flitted  Love  away  like  ambient  air ! 

At  that  time  I  had  seen  but  twenty  years, 
I  'm  forty  now,  'mid  solitude  and  tears ; 

He 's  gone  from  earth,  nor  waits  more  on  my 
whim, 

But  waits  me  There,  where  I  shall  go  to  him ! 
More  dear  is  he  to  me  than  all  earth's  ties, 
He  beckons  me  from  far  beyond  the  skies ; 

And  whether  'mong  the  saints  or  cherubim, 

I  shall  not  be  wrong,  There,  in  loving  him ! 

For  God,  when  He  made  man,  He  predestined 
That  he  should  love  one  woman  of  his  kind ; 

He  fashioned  her  so  she  would  fit  his  hand, 

And  gave  her  bliss  through  loving  but  that  Man! 

He  tried  to  make  me  understand  it  then; 
His  love  was  not  like  that  of  other  men. 
I  heeded  not  when  I  was  young  and  fair, 
I  flitted  Love  away  like  ambient  air ! 


139 


THE  OLD  PLANTATION. 

There's 'a  pathos  in  the  solemn  contemplation 

Of  the  old  times,  and  old  friends  we  used  to  know, 

When  we  visit  and  review  the  old  plantation 

Where  we  passed  our  childhood  days,  long  years 
ago; 

When  we  see  the  old  farm  wrapt  in  desolation, 
With  its  buildings  sinking  into  slow  decay ; 

Fields  abandoned  to  wild,  useless  vegetation, 

(Fields  so  small  now,  but  so  large  in  childhood's 
day,) 

How  the  memories  of  sadness,  and  of  pleasure, 
Of  our  happy  youth's  extravagant  extremes, 

All  come  trooping  back  to  strengthen  manhood's 

treasure, 
And  to  sweeten  the  fruition  of  life's  dreams ! 

As  I  ruminate,  to-day,  in  perlustration 

Of  the  mansion  and  such  buildings  as  remain, 

I  'm  exuberant  with  glad  rejuvenation, 

For  I  'm  living  o'er  Youth's  sweet,  new  life  again ! 

Here 's  the  cabin  where  we  heard  our  hired-man  tell  us 
How  he  used  to  be  a  bloody,  wild  outlaw, 

How  he  killed  an  Indian  chief,  once,  who  got  jealous 
'Cause  he  took  the  chief's  papooses  and  his  squaw ; 

How  he  mowed,  by  hand,  one  day,  some  twenty  acres 
In  the  "Nation,"  where  he  owned  townships  of 
lands ; 

How  he  used  to  be  a  gambler — beat  the  fakirs, 

And  once  whipped  a  badger  with  his  naked  hands ! 

(Over.)  i 


140 


THE  OLD  PLANTATION.— Cont. 

But  the  tenant 's  gone !  the  cabin's  walls  are  swaying, 
It  is  sinking  fast,  and  soon  will  pass  away, 

Like  old  neighbors  whom  we  loved,  now  dead,  or 

straying; 
From  the  dear  old  haunts  of  adolescency. 


There 's  the  orchard,  but  the  last  trees  are  decaying, 
There  are  mounds  where  other  large  trees  used  to 
grow,  ] 

And  the  hand  of  Time  is  but  his  work  delaying — 
All  the  other  trees  will,  ere  long,  have  to  go. 

As  I  walk  among  their  mounds,  to-day,  and  ponder — 
(The  necropolis  of  friends  I  used  to  know,) 

I  'm  reminded  that  I,  too,  must  soon  go  Yonder, 

Where  I  '11  meet  and  greet  true  friends  of  long 
ago!. 


There 's  the  spring,  the  crystal  fountain,  ever  flowing, 
With  the  clouds  and  landscape  mirrored  on  its 
face, 

In  that  shady  nook  where  evergreens  are  growing, 

'Neath  where  branches  of  the  tall  trees  interlace; 

How  salubrious  this  mollifying  fountain ! 

How  benignantly  it  satisfied  our  thirst ! 
As  we  came,  toilworn,  from  valley,  plain  and  mountain, 

When  the  stifling  summer  heat  had  done  its  worst. 

As  this  cooling  fountain  flows  on  toward  the  ocean, 
And  I  stand  here  contemplating  it  to-day, 

This  one  question  comes  to  me,  in  my  devotion : 

"Will  the  Soul  of  Man,  likewise,  go  on  for  aye?" 


141 


ECHO. 

(Woman's  Double  Grouch.) 
Echo,  they  say, 
From  some  outre 
Farce-comedy, 
Some  recherche 
Narcissus'  play 
Of  Love's  delay, 
Drooped,  pined  away, 
And,  gradually, 
Became  blase. 
Then  she  got  gay 
And  gossipy, 
Lost  stamina ; 
Till  now,  she  may 
Repeat,  convey, 
Give  up,  betray, 
Most  any  day, 

All  secrets  heard  !31 

So,  Lost  Love  whet 
That  nymph's  regret 
Until  she  set 
The  plan  that  met, 
O'erturned,  upset 
Fair  woman's  pet 
And  favorite 
Law :   Etiquette. 
And  it,  you  bet, 
Makes  woman  fret, 
Swear,  starve,  and  sweat 
Like  Suffragette, 
(Wield  her  hatchette,) 
That  she,  till  yet, 
Is  forced  to  let 
The  echo  get 

The  blamed  last  word ! 

The  End. 
142 


NOTES. 

Note  1,  Page  33. 

Wash-hun-gah  does  not  use  our  word  for  "soul"  here, 
but  in  the  sense  of:  "Kings  of  the  earths  and  peoples; 
princes  and  judges  of  all  the  earths."  His  exact  language 
was:  "Yakni  miko  vhlehah  michi  okla  putta  momah, 
pehlichi  vhlehah  micha  yakni  nan  vpesa  aiyasha  momah." 
It  will  be  noticed  that  he  does  not  use  the  word  "Shil- 
om'bish"  here  in  this  connection;  but,  from  the  context  of 
what  follows,  the  author  has  found  the  best  rendition,  for 
the  English  reader,  is  the  expression:  "Immortal  Soul,"  as 
used.  I 

Note  2,  Page  34. 

The  Chief  uses  the  word  "anulfillah"  here,  conveying 
the  idea  of  counselor,  or  councilor,  as  well  as  companion. 

Note  3,  Page  34. 

He  uses  the  word  "Chitokaka"  here  for  the  Godhead, 
and  not  "Chihowa." 

Note  4,  Page  35. 

Inla  ya  na  kvniomichi  tuk  a  omihchit  ish  i  fvlvnu- 
michashke. 

Note  5,  Page  48. 

Chitikaka  yvt  im  auklvna  ya  ahattao,  yvmvt  kvhvlla 
hekeyo  hoke. 

Note  6,  Page  48. 

Is  sa  nukhaklashke,  Chihowah  ma;  svlbvssha  hoka; 
etc. 

Note  7,  Page  51. 

Yvmohmi  hatuk  osh  sv  chukvsh,  vt  na  yokpah  ma  isht 
vm  a  hulittopa  mvt  yokpah  fehnvshke. 
Note  8,  Page  51. 

In  1849  a  great  many  Frenchmen  who  failed  to  dis 
cover  gold  in  California,  in  the  great  rush,  stopped  in  the 
Kaw  country,  on  their  return,  intermarried  with  the  In 
dians,  and  lived  among  the  tribe.  It  is  believed  that  these 
French  words  found  their  way  into  the  legend  through  this 
source,  and  are,  therefore,  of  recent  origin. 

Note  9,  Page  58. 
Ai  okchaya  a  nvinti  vt  chishno  yak  oka. 

Note  10,  Page  57. 

Chi  sunlosh  vt  nan  ik  achukmo  ka  micha  chittivlbl  vt 
na  haksichi  ya  ik  a  chumo  ka. 

Note  11,  Page  60. 
Afvmmih  tvfolepah  sipokni.  etc. 

Note  12,  Page  60. 
I  tempel  ihutittapa  ya  Chihowa  hut  ahattvt. 

Note  13,  Page  62. 
Mihma  shutik  a  bichulla  cha  akkoa  tak. 

143 


Note  14,  Page  62. 

Yohmih  ma  Chihowa  hvt  vba  ya  hilohvcthi  tok;  mioha 
Ohaha  i  Shaihli  vt  itih  luak  tubaksi  yosh  asha  tok  oke. 

Note  15,  Page  66. 
Ahl  micfta  livshki  aiena  kvt  BV  kanchih  kai. 

Note  16,  Page  68. 

Yokmi  hvt  hvttak  ik  uhlpeso  ya  ilap  ibbak  nan  isht  ai 
ahatta  tuk  ak  inli  ho  ishit  yukachi  hoke. 

Note  17,  Page  68. 

Fvhamvt  akrechi  likma,  tana  he  keyuih  makj  ash  saiyi 
nutaka  akkakoha  hoke. 

Note  18,  Page  67. 

The  blood:  Issish  hlvtapa  ya  hohoyo  yvsh  ilbvsslha 
vhleha  ha  ittaiyara  hoka:  yvmnvvt  pahaya  tuk  a  im  vhaksih 
keya  hoke. 

Note  19,  Page  68. 

Vlhpesah  keyu  nan  vnoli  vt  wvkayvt  hieli  cha,  nanah 
ithani  lik  keya  ka  a  punaklo  hoke. 

Note  20,  Page  68. 
Chihowah  itih  ola  kvt  luah  libbika  chulhi  hoke. 

Note  21,  Page  69. 

A  Chitakaka  ma,  Chitokaka  ma  nantak  kvtiohmi  (ho 
is  su  kancihib  choh? 

Note  22,  Page  69. 

Nanah  aehi  kvt  ikshoh  vnnumpa  hvt  ikshoh;  itih  hvt 
ola  na  haklo  ka  ikshoh  kvmmok  nrishke. 

Note  23,  Page  69. 

Chilhowa  ai  ittvchvffa  yvt  i  nukshopa  putta  ka  iba- 
foiyukka  hoke.  * 

Note  24,  Page  69. 

Itih  ha  nan  ai  aMi  hvt  ikslio  hoka:  chukvsh  vt  nan 
akpulo  yoke;  i  nvlvpi  vt  ahullappi  tiwa  yoke;  isunlvsh  a 
hvlvsbtehi  hoke. 

Note  25,  Page  69. 
Ilbvssh  ya  im  vhaksi  na  billia  he  keya  hoka. 

Note  26,  Page  70. 
Aklah  ittcchowa  ya  ai  is  sv  hlakaffchi  hoke. 

Note  27,  Page  70. 
Nan  ilbvsshali  hvttak  a  im-  is  sv  blafcuffichi  hoke. 

Note  28,  Page  69. 

Micha  vm  a  svanalit  itih  ha  vwatvchit  WYkommishke; 
hvlih,  "yumanakhvlih,  pi  naslikit  vt  pisvshke,"  okla  ach- 
ishke. 

Note  29,  Page  71. 
Chukvsh  nan  ai  ahni  ka  ish  emaknwt. 

Note  30,  Page  38. 

Yohmia  ma  nukhuhela  ka!h  o  yokni  vt  winakadhi  dha 
wvnnihichih  mtL 

144 


Note  31,  Page  142. 

Echo,  according  to  classical  mythology,  was  a  nymph, 
daughter  of  Air  and  Earth,  who,  for  love  of  Narcissus, 
pined  away  till  nothing  remained  of  her  but  voice. 

The  author's  idea  here  is,  that  her  regret  and  grief 
for  the  loss  of  her  lover  were  so  great  that  she  lost  all 
idea  of  propriety,  and  began  to  repeat  everything  she 
heard — established  the  phenomenon  in  Nature  we  call  echo 
— and  breached  woman's  law  of  etiquette;  in  fact,  brought 
that  curse  on  woman. 

Finis. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


PS 


Ad-em-nel-la. 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


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PS 
35 
H939a 


